


Homecoming

by Macx



Series: Years of Transition [5]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Project has been closed down. Daemon and Rhyan are without a job, without a home and nowhere to go. Returning to Cybertron is one option...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

So this was it. Cybertron.   
He stood at the edge of a large square, all around him bustling activity, his optics roaming over the buildings. Just behind him the impressive, postmodern leviathan that was West Central rose up into the dark sky. It was considered to be one of the most modern buildings on Cybertron, which was no small surprise since it had just been recently erected – recently compared to every other structure on the former factory planet. West Central had come a long way from an arrangement of buildings for pure functionality to what it was today. Now it was the center of all activity, the heart of the new Cybertron, housing the command centers, conference rooms, staff rooms, machinery, the access to the doorway chamber and the biggest functional space port. Its core was still a design based on functionality, but the outgrowings, the new wings and sections, were not.   
He watched the crowds and then slowly walked with them, passing by the square and entering what was the main hall. The hall was something of a public lobby, welcoming those coming directly out of the terminals from the space port, helping those looking for their way around with large signs and housing an array of information terminals, manned or automatic. A giant mobile hung below the ceiling and a fountain performed a ballet of water jets.   
Crossing the hall he exited again and was confronted with the whole Cybertronian scenery. Enormous buildings stretching into the sky, walkways sneaking past them, monorails criss-crossing here and there, bridges connecting the walkways. Everything was vast and almost endless in appearance, though not oppressingly so, he noted. He was not totally stunned by it. Faint memories sparked inside his mind, memories of seeing this before, of having been here before. Everything was colored in blue, gray, silver, muted brown, red and yellows. Light reflected off the windows or flowed out from the offices inside.   
"Impressive," he whispered to himself.   
The landscape was awe-inspiring.... beautiful.....but not home. Home was a green and blue planet, a natural planet, not made of metal. A planet light years away and most likely forever out of reach.   
"What now?"   
He looked down and tried to think of an answer. They had arrived here a few hours ago, aboard a regulation transporter. No one had checked on them, no one even knew they were here. All had been taken care of, but they had no idea what to do now. They had no papers, no place to stay, no money.... nothing.   
Dr. Rhyan Masters sighed slightly as Daemon kept his silence and stared out over the landscape. They had made it to Cybertron but now they were on their own. Well, somehow they had always been on their own – sometimes more, sometimes less.  But now they had no more contacts, no more ties; just a few names.   
Rhyan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Project was no more. Ian McCormack was dead   
and everything he had built, everything he had worked for so hard and so long, had gone down the drain. SMC had taken back command of the small group, had chosen a new head, and then had started to disassemble everything. It was a shame. Rhyan had worked for Project for ten long years and now everything was dead... .destroyed.... gone. He didn't know whose fault it was. Maybe Gemini.... maybe CyberTek .... maybe no one.   
He took out a small slip of paper with a few scrawled-on names and numbers. Bandit had given it to him before he had left Project for good. No one knew where he had gone. The same was true for Mage. Both his friends and team members had left Project the moment he had decided to do so as well. Neither had wanted to come with him to Cybertron, though he knew Mage had been tempted.  All he had left were a few belongings safely stowed in a locker at the space port, a few dollars and Daemon. He was the reason why they had come here and he was the one who had protested long and hard that he didn't want to.   
But this was Daemon's home.   
"Let's try and find somewhere to crash," he now muttered.   
"For you or for me?" Daemon asked emotionlessly.   
Rhyan rubbed his eyes. Daemon's moods had been worse lately. Ever since the death of Ian McCormack and the destruction of Project he had grown more irritable, colder and harsher. He tried to reign in his temper and not send too much backwash through the link, but it was most of the times impossible. Rhyan had learned to deal with it but he had noted that he was prone to copying Daemon's anger and pain. He had to shield more and stronger. It was taking its toll.   
"You transform and not show who you are, and we'll be fine."   
Daemon's red optics met his calm gaze and he simply transformed. They left toward the city of Strata-Mainframe, Daemon locking into the local help network for a map and Rhyan trying to find the addresses or locations Bandit had given him.

* * *

Melissa hadn't felt well in the last few days. There was a strange churning in what she thought of as her stomach and now and then a faint pain seemed to ripple along her muscle cables in her arm. Every time she was ready to seek out First Aid, the pain stopped and she was left puzzled and feeling strange. Now it was back. The pain. Mel stumbled over to her desk where the intercom terminal stood. Her trembling fingers reached for the emergency call button, but she never made it.   
Something ripped through her and she screamed involuntarily, more out of shock than pain. Her skin rippled with it, as if something beneath it was alive, and the color changed like a chameleon's. Her hair waved like in a strong breeze, growing, stretching, and then the pain hit her. It was mind-numbing, deep inside her body, and she collapsed with a gasp.   
The world around her faded, but she wasn't losing consciousness. Her sight dimmed and then blurred. Mel whimpered, twitching faintly, then lay still.

* * *

Rhyan got out of the dark BMW and looked around. He was alone. The city was silent, now that it was past midnight, at least this part of the city. Only a few shops were lit and they didn't look like any of the big, shiny mall shops from the downtown area of Strata. He walked along the street, not knowing what to do next. He was in the city now, but how could he find Bandit's friends? The numbers and streets on the piece of paper didn't exist and the closest thing to what Bandit had given him was this area. Maybe he should find a place to sleep first.   
He stopped in front of a tv-shop, watching the late night program. The news were on, but he couldn't hear them, just watch the lips of the newsreader move as he talked about the daily events. It was so strange to see a Cybertronian news cast and weather report.   
<Dead end> he muttered through the link.   
Daemon was silent, scanning the street. Rhyan felt his stomach churn. He was hungry.   
<I.... I'll have a look around> he said and walked on. <You wait here. Try to keep a low profile>   
He turned around corners, walked along narrow streets, passing some people. Generally he had no idea where he was going. Somehow he arrived at a small grouping of benches and stools. He was in a park, he realized. A park in the middle of a city built on an artificial planet?! Rhyan shook his head. He was obviously lost and he had not found any fast food joints on the way. He sat down on one of the benches. It was silent everywhere. He loved the silence, his mind wandering back to those disastrous events over two years ago. It had taken them two years to finally destroy Project on the paper as well, two years to make the final decision to leave. Mage had organized the transporter out of his old life and to this planet. With nothing but his belongings and a cold and grumpy partner. He knew Daemon didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to project this much, but he was losing control of himself more and more. He was desperate and his emotions were breaking free of his usually tightly shielded mind.   
Suddenly Rhyan heard a movement. No, he felt it more then he heard it. Someone was approaching him. He sat absolutely still and waited, all his senses heightened. Footsteps were coming closer and as the they approached he tensed. Suddenly he had the feeling of imminent danger. Without losing a second he threw himself down and heard a loud noise of something hard hitting the bench where he had just sat. With catlike agility he got up, knocked down the one who had approached him and disarmed him. No, her. Rhyan blinked at the woman under him. She was still fighting against him to get free, but he kept her down with his weight, pinning her arms to the ground, kneeling half on her. The woman stopped fighting after she finally realized she couldn't get free.   
"Who are you?" he asked, studying her face. She was young, maybe mid-twenties. She had dark brown hair bound together in a pony tail and was wearing a black satin jacket covered with badges and patches of all kind. Her grey eyes were sparkling defensively.   
"Why don't ya get it over with and kill me!?" she hissed.   
"What?" he asked, surprised. Had he missed something? "I just want to know why you snuck up on me and tried to hit me with that baseball bat. Who are you?" Rhyan repeated his question.   
She eyed him suspicously. Her squarish, pleasant face showed her thoughts. She didn't know what to make of him.   
"Ya sitting alone in the park. In the middle o' the night. Ya don't look like one o' us so ya must be prey."   
Prey? And who was 'us'? He didn't know what to make of that girl and finally decided to just let her got. She may have attacked him with a baseball bat, but he was sure he could take her down again if necessary. Rhyan was a studied Ph.D. in many fields, but his decade with Project had given him a whole new range of skills. He had been a field agent and he had the experience and fighting capabilities of one. The young woman jumped to her feet and took on a defensive position. He held up his hands.   
"I am unarmed."   
She frowned. "Who are you?" He noticed that her slang dropped to a normal level.   
"My name is Rhyan Masters,"  he answered. "And I'm looking for friends of a friend of mine."   
She still eyed him. "You're not from around here."   
"No. I just arrived."   
"Where from?"   
"Earth."   
She snorted in disgust.   
Rhyan chewed on his lower lip and then asked a question that might get im into a lot of trouble if it all went wrong. Then again, he had a last way out in form of Daemon.....   
"Can you help me?"   
"Dunno." She moved cautiously towards the place where her baseball bat was lying. She picked it up. "Who are those friend?"   
"I have no idea what they look like, only a few notes on a piece of paper." Rhyan got the paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it carefully to her. The woman read it thoughtfully, then shook her head after a minute.   
"Never heard of this. Maybe they don't live here."   
"Maybe. But maybe you just don't know it."   
"Hey!" She looked affronted. "I know everyone around this place."   
Rhyan smiled slightly. "And what is 'this place' called?"   
"The Shades." He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. She chewed on her lower lip. "Do you have a place?"   
Rhyan shook his head. "I just arrived here."   
"Okay, one last question: how did you know I was coming?"   
"I heard you."   
"Impossible!" she exclaimed. "I'm the best prowler!"   
"I heard you coming," he repeated, unwilling to add that bionic implants, especially Interfaced bionic links, were quite helpful.   
She didn't say anything for about a minute, then she shrugged. "Let's get outta here."   
"By the way," Rhyan said as they left the park and followed a parallel street to the street he had taken, "what's your name now?"   
"The name's Renee."   
"Nice to meet you - Renee"

* * *

Optimus Prime was on his way to his quarters as he passed the doors behind which were the living space assigned to Mel. He looked at the closed door and hesitated. He had wanted to talk to her ever since she had been changed from a normal human to a hybrid, half human, half robot, all fused into one. She was so different from both races that she was a being in her own rights. But except for Nightmare and Spike, her father, no one could get close to her to talk. Optimus decided he might as well try and talk to her now.   
He knocked.   
There was no answer. Maybe she wasn't home, but where else would she be? Mel never left her quarters if not necessary and if she did she somehow kept in the shadows and tried not be anywhere at all.   
He knocked again.   
This time Optimus thought he heard something behind the door and he frowned. Opening a com channel he tried to get a connection to Mel's terminal. It failed, but the sound from behind the door was louder now and it somehow sounded like... moaning?   
"Metroplex!"   
"Yes, Optimus Prime," the central core of West Central answered.   
"Override the security pass of quarters 5-99C! Now!"   
"Command level confirmed and accepted."   
The door slid open and revealed Cybertronian-sized quarters, furnished and decorated half-heartedly in human style. In the middle of the room, halfway between the door and the desk, lay Melissa. She was curled in on herself, her hair lying like spilled oil around her. Yes, it looked like liquid. It didn't move, but Optimus had the distinct feeling that if he touched it, it would be liquid.   
"Melissa?" he now exclaimed.   
She moved faintly and something seemed to ripple under her skin. Optimus felt slightly sick.   
"Optimus Prime to med bay!" he then opened an emergency channel. "Medical emergency in 5-99C!"

* * *

Meeting Renee's friends wasn't as bad as he had expected. They welcomed him in a much friendlier way than the young woman, even though they weren't overly happy to see a stranger among them. The building they lived in was old, but not in a bad condition. They lived in the basement which appeared quite clean and homely. It consisted of several rooms, each room owned by one or sometimes two persons, each furnished and decorated individually. The people who lived here had come to Cybertron in hope of a new life and had failed in one way or another, had lost a struggle or had never struggled at all. They were on almost the lowest social level, but not yet at the bottom. They weren't criminals, just desperate.   
Renee answered some curious questions about him with brief, dismissive answers. She led Rhyan to one of the rooms in the back of the basement. Without knocking she opened the door and gestured him to follow.   
<I don't like this> Daemon could be heard in his head.   
<Me neither> Rhyan answered. <But it's better than sleeping on the park benches or sleazy motels>   
Daemon was silent again. He was aware that Rhyan, as a human, needed certain 'luxuries', and sleeping in the car was no option either.   
The room was quite large and well lit. He discovered a tv-set, a computer and a radio on one of the tables. A shelf full of books dominated one side of the room. The room was parted by a piece of cloth, separating the bed from the rest of it. On one of the two chairs sat a woman in her mid-fifties. She had greyish-red short hair and was wearing a blue jumpsuit with a sleeveless vest over it. Purely functional, not as a declaration of the latest fashion. As Renee and Rhyan entered she looked up from the book she was reading. She had a hard, thin face with grey eyes and thin lips.   
"Hello, Renee," she greeted the girl.   
Renee just nodded. "This is Rhyan. I found him in the park," she introduced him. To Masters' ears it sounded like he was a piece of scrap she had picked up.   
Thank you very much, he thought wryly.   
The woman eyed him. "Rhyan who?"  she inquired.   
"Rhyan Masters. Dr. Masters, actually."   
"Came here from Earth," Renee added with a certain amount of sneering.   
"My name's MaryAnn Joshua."   
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Joshua," Rhyan said politely.   
"You said you are a doctor. Medical?"   
Rhyan shook his head. "No such luck. I know a bit of first aid, but that's it." He actually knew more than just a bit.   
"What kind are you then?" MaryAnn wanted to know.   
"Advanced engineering and some others," Rhyan answered, trying not to make it sound too important.   
"Others as in ....?"   
Geez, she really had to dig! "Physics, advanced maths, electronics," he shrugged.   
Her gray eyes burned into his blue ones. "Talented," she then remarked.   
Rhyan shrugged again. He hated to pride himself with his talents. He was a highly intelligent man and had breezed through the finals and doctorates with ease. It had never been a hardship, but it made him different.   
"He says he's looking for friends of a friend of his," Renee now told her. She gave MaryAnn the scrap of paper and the older woman read over it.   
"I don't remember seeing one of them in the last few days," she then said.   
"You know them?" Rhyan asked, hope rising inside of him.   
"Yes. Some. Say, what is your friend's name?"   
"Peter Hunter. We called him Bandit."   
MaryAnn nodded. "I heard of him from those you look for. He fixes things."   
Rhyan had to smile a little. "Yes, he does. Can you get me in contact with them?"   
"What if I can? Why do you want to talk to them?"   
He hesitated. 'Because I am an illegal here? Because I'm trying to get a new life and let my partner grow accustomed to his new old life? Because I have no other choice and won't run to the Autobots for help?'.   
"I have my reasons," he then said evasively.   
"I see." She eyed him closely again. "Do you have a place to stay?"   
Rhyan shook his head. MaryAnn was silent once more and her eyes seemed to try and get inside his head, reading his thoughts.   
"We have a free room, but food is scarce," she then said. He nodded. "Renee will show you the way." With that the 'interview' was over and they left.   
"You can sleep in Barrie's room. He's gone," Renee informed him.   
"Gone?"  Rhyan asked, noting the way she told him that.   
"Left." Whatever that implied, it told Rhyan that Barrie hadn't just left this basement home. He had left Cybertron.   
They walked silently till they arrived at the door to Barrie's room. Renee just opened it and then wished him a brief 'good night' and walked away. Rhyan sighed a bit and entered the room. It was smaller than MaryAnn's but well furnished. He had a bed, a chair and a closet. A table was propped up against one wall. Above the table hung a mirror. He walked over to the mirror and looked into it. Blue eyes looked back at him. He studied his face as if he saw it for the first time. It was narrow, sharply outlined and sun-tanned. He was a bit pale right now and he had lost weight from the stress, but he didn't look sick or ill. His hair was tousled and as always a stubborn lock hung into his face.   
Rhyan turned and gazed at the bed. He was tired, but he was also hungry and wondered if he could find a little scrap to eat somewhere. He left the room and wandered around the corridors. One door told him that the room behind it was the kitchen. It was cosy and small, consisting of a large table with eight chairs, a counter with four chairs and all the necessary kitchen utensils. He entered and took two apples from the basket on the table. Then he went up the stairs to the upper floors of the house. He followed the stairs until he was on the roof. No one stopped him and he met only a few people who barely glanced his way.   
A long time he just sat there and watched the stars. Then he turned his eyes on the city. A sprawling carpet of lights and life, West Central rising in the distance as a tiny, lit dot. Shuttles and freighters passed overhead and he thought he could simply reach out and touch them. This was his new home. He had nothing else since his past hd been viciously destroyed. There was nothing left on Earth for him to return to and it filled him with pain.   
Suddenly someone touched him. It was a mental touch, tentative and careful. It reminded him a lot of the time after Daemon had nearly overloaded all implants and Rhyan had had a break-down. No one knew about it, not really anyway, but it had been quite painful and it had taken Rhyan days to straighten himself out. The first time after this incident, Daemon had been just as careful, afraid to do more harm than good.   
<You can stop hiding> Rhyan now sent, trying not to sound so tired. <I can feel you>   
Daemon's presence increased. <You are blaming yourself for an incident you could neither have foreseen nor prevented> he said levelly.   
It was the first time they actually talked about it in more than just shadowy references.

He looked at the almost peaceful man lying in the bed. Ian McCormack was dead. Blood loss, shock and severe damage from the projectile fired by Gemini. Rhyan wished he could cry but he was unable to. Everything around him lay in ruins, his best friend was dead, and many more had died throughout the attack. Inside he felt devastated, empty, unable to do more than stand here and watch.   
He should have been here.   
He could have changed something. Even if it had been only a small change, maybe Ian might be alive now.

Rhyan smiled dimly. <Maybe, maybe not. It happened and it is my fault>   
<You can't be in two places at once>   
<No, but I can try>   
Silence descended between them. Daemon tried to close the link again but Rhyan suddenly reached out and pried it completely open, forcing their minds to touch. Daemon gasped slightly but didn't withdraw. It was his only weakness: the bionic link. He needed Rhyan and cutting himself off was like a worst case scenario for him. Losing the connection to his human partner meant losing input, meant sensory deprivation..... for him it was death and the revival of Synchrony. Sure, they communicated through the connection, but it wasn't a closed link. The implants made this Interface different and it was mostly based on an electronic connection between two systems. But there was still the emotional side. They had kept the link closed for so long that it had hurt both of them because both were trying to deal with their pain and stress on their own. It didn't work like that, especially for a being like Daemon.   
<We will handle this and we will have a new life> he insisted.   
<Not here> Daemon told him quietly.   
<We have to wait and see>   
<They will find us>   
Rhyan closed his eyes and exhaustion washed over him in great waves. <Maybe>   
<Definitely>   
<We'll see>

* * *

Earth had changed profoundly in the last decade. Not all the changes had been positive and many had been rushed, but at the time it had seemed necessary. The Anti-Cybertronian League, the ACL, had lost a lot of their power in the political circus and were unable to gain more ground. Their attempt to kill not only the Autobot representatives but also the Earth delegates had been the killing strike. Now they were reverting back to terrorist activities. Earth officials were trying to control them, but it was close to impossible. Relations to Earth were getting better, mainly thanks to the tireless work of Arcee, Daniel and the group of delegates around them.  But a lot of work still needed to be done.   
And now there was the danger of an impeding civil war concerning the Ameropean Treaty Agreement nations, mainly North America and Canada. The ACL wasn’t easily defeated and they were gathering power and support. If events continued as they were right now, there was no stopping a war on all fronts against the terror organization. It wouldn’t involve Cybertron, but it would put a halt to all diplomatic developments. And Optimus had sworn not to get involved in any way.   
Prime put aside the finished reports and stared into the distance. He had never imagined so much to change in such a short time. Cybertronians were such long-living beings that fast changes always took centuries. Now they happened in years or decades. Contact to humans had changed them so much and a lot of the changes were positive. Prolonged exposure to a race so short-lived compared to their allies had had positive side-effects on the population as well as planet development. And even contact to the Interfaces, humanoids who lived as long as their robot partners, was changing Cybertron and its inhabitants. Humanoids had different values, approaches and ideas.   
That reminded him of the growing city of Strata-Mainframe and the new settlement not far away, Westridge. Through the countless aliens freed from the Game the population had grown, and though many had finally started their journey home, many had decided to remain on Cybertron. They had been in the Game too long, had lost everything back home, even their closest relatives and friends, spending millennia in the virtual reality. Rodimus Prime was handling the new 'Cybertronians' and they were adding to the multi-nationality of the cities. New problems were coming out of this, but right now everything was still within limits. The mayors of the cities were doing a very good job.   
Optimus' mind was drawn to Melissa again and he sighed deeply. First Aid had no idea what had happened yet and Mel had not woken from unconsciousness. Nightmare had arrived shortly before Optimus had left and Prime wondered how deep their relationship ran. They had known each other since Mel’s second birthday and their friendship had grown into a tight bond. They were there for each other and Nightmare ceaselessly tried to help Melissa adjust to her new body.   
Someone knocked and the door opened, revealing a long-lost figure in these halls.   
"Rodimus!" Optimus exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by his partner’s presence. "I thought you were Below!"   
Rodimus smiled tiredly and flopped down in the chair in front of the desk. "I was. Doorway research is one hectic mess. A bee hive is quiet compared to it. I needed an hour or two away. Starscream took over."   
Prime nodded. Since the accident everything had grown even more serious. Rodimus was involved non-stop in the on-going attempts to understand the doorway system better, to comprehend why the accident had happened.   
"And Shan said I’m flooding again." He smiled ruefully. And that was the best sign that Rodimus was stressed out. "Anything new up here?"   
"Not really." Optimus gave his friend a run-down on the latest events and Rodimus rubbed his optics.   
"Bad," he muttered.   
"Very."

* * *

First Aid cast a last look at his patient, then walked over to where Perceptor was running several tests at once. From his expression, the scientist was no further than yesterday evening. Melissa had been brought in by a med team, accompanied by Optimus Prime, about twenty-four Standard hours ago. She had been unconscious, her cerebral functions fluctuating, and her energon demand was rising and falling constantly. They had hooked her up to a feed, which was either drained or not touched at all. With each drain of energon, her body seemed to undergo a strange kind of new metamorphosis. Perceptor had installed sensors all over her body, was monitoring every change, but he had no explanation as to where it was coming from or why it had started now.   
"Perceptor?" First Aid now asked.   
Perceptor looked up and simply shook his head. Nothing new. That was also the moment First Aid became aware of a visitor. He sighed silently. It was Spike.   
"How is she?" Spike asked softly as the medic gestured him to follow.   
"We don't know, Spike. She has been unconscious every since Optimus Prime discovered her, her vital signs are good, but her brain functions, as well as her energon consumption in this unaware state are fluctuating wildly."   
"What about the ... morphing?"   
"We have no answer to that either. Her body is part organic, part metal, and the metal is nothing I've ever seen before. It is a bit like your Protogen body, but missing several traits again. She is nothing I've ever examined before and I have to confess that I was glad when she didn't show any negative signs after her metamorphosis. Now... I am a bit...uhm... lost."   
Spike's optics were drawn to the closed-off cubicle his daughter lay in. "So we wait?"   
"It's all we can do. Sorry. Perceptor is working on trying to understand what is going on, but right now we are very much in the dark."   
"Thanks," Spike mumbled. "Can I see her?"   
"Sure."   
First Aid led him over to the cubicle and let him in. Spike looked at the still form of his daughter, someone who, like him, had gone through so much in her short life. She had been transformed into a hybrid life form through a doorway accident as the latest change for her and now... now she might just lose this new life to some freak behavior of the strange body. He looked at the monitors, trying to see a solution, an answer to their problems, in the read-outs, but it was all just fluctuating lines and strange wobbly graphs. An energon feed, half full, was attached to her, and her skin looked strangly muted in color. Spike sat down beside the bed and simply watched. There was nothing else he could do.

* * *

Screaming, Rhyan woke to the remnants of a dream he had had too often lately. Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was just after 3 am. He tried to banish the memories of the dream, the nightmare, but they didn't go away.   
Ian dying. His eyes staring emptily at him. Blood soaking his shirt, staining his hands..... The images haunted him, didn't go away, sent more guilt through him. He could have done something. He could have prevented this! He had been there and he had failed! That Rhyan hadn't been present when McCormack had passed away didn't count. He had nightmarish recollections anyway.   
Rhyan moaned softly. His shoulders were tense, cold sweat covering his entire body.   
<Rhy?>   
He winced. <It's okay> he managed.   
<You had the nightmare again. I felt it>   
<It's okay!> he snapped, irritated and hurt. He tried to get his breathing under control, his body still trembling. <Sorry> he whispered immediately. <I didn't want to snap>   
Daemon sent a wave of support, unable to do more. Rhyan refused to open the link to let him in completely. He would most likely overpower his partner with what horrors he had under close guard in his mind.   
Rhyan got out of the bed and left the room. He was shaky, pale and exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not now. His feet took him straight down to the kitchen, the center place of the basement community like in so many houses.

* * *

Renee was a night-active person and after another 'raid', which meant scavenging whatever she could get her hands on, she usually went for a drink in the kitchen. And that's where she found she was not the only one awake. Their guest, Rhyan Masters, was sitting on one of the chairs, half collapsed over the table, nursing a glass of dark liquid. He looked bad, Renee decided, like he had just woken from a nightmare, and she stopped in the door. Rhyan saw her nevertheless and looked up.   
"Hey, Doc. You are up late," she started, walking into the kitchen, then gave him a critical look. "Are you okay?"   
"I was just about to go back," he mumbled. Rhyan took his glass and got up, trying to walk past her, but Renee never gave up easily.   
"What is wrong?" she wanted to know.   
"Need to get used to sleeping in another bed," he lied.   
Renee looked into the haunted eyes, the bottomless blue color reflecting pain and fear. 'Nightmare,' she diagnosed to herself. "Ah," was all she said and then watched him go.   
Definitely a nightmare. Now she only needed to find out what it had been about.

* * *

The next morning started early, at least for Rhyan. He had been unable to go back to sleep and had spent the remaining hours till 'sunrise' talking to Daemon. It had been a conversation on the Interface mindlink level, nothing audible, and though it had drained him, it had given both partners a sense of belonging. Daemon was still not very much at ease with the link, and neither was Rhyan, but Masters knew they had to train this ability. They never knew when they might need it. And they had both spent some time trying to find a way to get the papers they needed without further accessing the resources of the small group Rhyan was staying with. In the end Daemon had decided that he would try and hack into the UserNet of West Central and extract what they needed. It would take time, stealth and patience, but if he managed to get passports for them, as well as some money on a bank account, they would be able to leave here and go.... Go where? Rhyan had no idea.   
 Now he left the building and stopped. He didn't know what to do. Instinct told him to get a closer look at his new place, get to know it, and also to pay Daemon a visit in person. The Sentinel had spent the night hiding in a back alley. As he walked down the street, watching the people, he noticed Renee following him. So much for going to Daemon without getting discovered.   
"Care for some company?"  the girl asked as she caught up with him.   
"Do you have someone special in mind?"   
"I know this place better then anyone, Doc."   
Rhyan raised an eyebrow. "It's Rhyan, not 'Doc'."   
Renee shrugged. "Same thing. What do you want to see?"   
"You said you know this place. Show me the sights."   
Renee smiled broadly. "Okay, Doc. Follow me."   
With that she led him off through a maze of streets and alleyways. After some hours he had a rough plan of the territory. They got some burgers at a nearby fast food restaurant and walked on. Renee had paid for him, even though he had protested, but she had simply said he could pay her back later. He didn't want to know where a street kid like her got the money from. Actually, he didn't really care.   
"You should get something new to wear." Renee chewed on her burger as she eyed him.   
"Why?"   
"Your clothes look like you just crawled out of a grave."   
Rhyan sighed. Yes, his clothes looked a bit rumpled, but all his possessions were still in a locker at the space port and Daemon's trunk held only a few clothes for change.   
"I have some stuff stored," he then said evasively.   
"Where?"   
"Space port."   
She frowned in disapproval. "Costs money."   
"I know."   
Rhyan didn't mention that Daemon had hacked into the simple locker system and 'convinced' the machine that he had already paid. Rhyan believed that they could have gotten a motel room like this as well, but he didn't want to risk exposure just yet. Daemon needed to get used to UserNet and then he could move in it without disturbing any guard dogs.   
The most logical way for them would have been to walk straight into West Central, get in contact with Optimus Prime, Midnight or Rodimus, and ask for help. But Daemon hated the idea. He didn't want to meet his old 'friends' any time soon and Cybertron had only been their destination because there had actually been no other place to come where a transforming robot was inconspicious. Maybe this was only a stop on the way, he mused. Maybe they could finally get papers and then leave with an official transport to wherever. The whole universe was open to them. It frightened Rhyan, but he knew he had to get used to it. He was Interfaced.

*

Renee sat down on a bench in the park they had met the previous night. As they sat there, silently eating their lunch, she thought about Rhyan Masters. He was a strange man. She couldn't place him but he wasn't the average human male you met every day. He looked human and she believed he had been born as one, but still.... Something was weird about him. He was a studied man, as he had confessed himself, a rather highly intelligent one as well -- considering he held several doctorates and didn't look like had hit the mid-thirties yet. But there was also something to him that suggested he wasn't a paper-tiger. He had experience in a field you couldn't study: battle. And deep inside he there was something bothering him. Something he was worried about. She would find out what that was!

* * *

Nightmare entered med bay, nodded at Disaster who had this shift, and then walked to the room Mel was in. He was surprised to see she was having a visitor, though he shouldn't be. Spike was her father and one of the few family members currently on the planet. Daniel and Kim were off-planet and DJ was lost somewhere Below. She and IceAngel, along with Hoist, Pipes and Goldbug, had set out to explore the Maze around Below. It would take several weeks until they were expected back.   
Now he stopped, unsure whether to disturb the family scene. But Spike had already seen him and smiled, looking tired.   
"Am I disturbing you?" Nightmare asked, ready to leave.   
Spike shook his head. "No. Come in."   
Nightmare closed the door and hesitantly walked closer, his red optics falling on the almost lifeless form of Melissa Witwicky. He felt something inside of him twist with pain at the thought and chased it away. She was not about to die! She was strong! She had survived so much, worst of all a bodily transformation through a doorway accident. He remembered the incident as if it had happened just the other day, and he still remembered seeing the alien form of his best human friend upon waking.

His optics went on-line and a pair of strange optics looked worriedly at him. They were mostly black, but not the black of a dead robot, more like a living, liquid blackness.... and the silver specks in them moved in a disturbing way. The face was female and familiar, just like the voice, colored in a non-reflective silvery gray, and what he saw of the rest of the body was held in the same silver- gray and shiny black. Black hair spilled down her head and shoulders. It seemed to ...move. Maybe it was his imagination.....   
"Mel.....?"

Now nothing moved anymore. Her hair lay as lifeless as her whole body, and it pained him so much. Part of him blamed himself for the accident. Nightmare was a Gatekeeper and responsible for the safety of the doorway, but something had twisted this stable wormhole between two doorways out of shape and with it had twisted Melissa's body.   
"It's not your fault," Spike now said.   
Nightmare's head snapped around and he stared at the Protogen leader. Spike smiled.   
"I know you keep blaming yourself for the incident, but believe me, it is not your fault. Nothing ever was. Life is not easy, mostly for us flesh creatures among beings several dozen times our size, made of metal, and almost immortal." He smiled wryly. He had changed into a robot as well, though he wasn't of Cybertronian origin now. "What happened was out of your control."   
"Maybe," Nightmare muttered.   
"She survived, Nightmare. That's all that counts!"   
"No!" he whispered harshly. "It's not! She lost her eyes several years ago and now she has lost her humanity!"   
Spike shook his head. "No, Nightmare! She is still human! I am still human, despite what we look like now."   
The larger robot was torn inside and it was plainly visible. "But at what price? It took her whole body! Spike....I...."   
Spike's light blue optics stopped him. "Stop it," he said calmly, his voice flat but commanding. "You are not omnipotent or omniscient! You nearly died as well! And none of the others working with the doorway have a single clue as to what could have gone wrong! Why should you have known?"   
He hung his head. Spike was right to a degree, but only to a degree.   
"You were always there for Mel. Always. You've been such good friends right from her childhood and I can't think of a better guardian for my daughter," Spike went on, holding the red optics. "I know Carly and I were dubious at first, mainly because you were not used to humans and maybe even because you were a Decepticon once. But you proved yourself, we trust you.... Mel trusts you. And she needs you."   
Nightmare winced, but he stayed. It was all he could do to help his friend right now. Not much, but at least something.... something to calm his conscience.

* * *

"Anything?" Rhyan Masters sat down on one of the chairs and looked expectantly at MaryAnn. She looked into his controlled face and the blue eyes. Was it her imagination or were they darker than when they had first met? He also looked thinner, more haggard, as if he didn't get enough sleep. Currently he was wearing something different from his previous outfit, black jeans and a dark blue shirt.   
Rhyan Masters had been with the group for about one week now, mainly keeping to himself. She didn't know what he was doing, but he seemed to be brooding over something. Renee was his constant companion, sometimes just a shadow close to him. She accompanied him while he roamed the streets or gave him the information he needed.   
"They have left Cybertron," she then answered the question.   
Masters's face betrayed nothing and he only nodded. "Then it's time for me to leave as well."   
"And go where?" MaryAnn inquired.   
He smiled humorlessly. "I'll find something."   
With that he rose and left her room. Thoughtfully, she watched him disappear. Something about him was odd, not normal, and she was very interested in finding out just who this man was.   
Suddenly there was a shout from outside and she rose, quickly leaving the room. She stopped when she saw what had happened.

Rhyan wasn't feeling well and he hadn't felt all that good in the last few days. Maybe it had been the nightmares which were coming back regularly now, maybe it were the cyber-implants acting up, and maybe it was something completely different. He didn't know. Hearing now that the people who might have made life easier for him, getting him papers without hacking into data banks and files himself, were gone only enhanced the sick feeling inside him.   
He sighed, remembering MaryAnn's words. Where would he go? Where would he stay? What kind of life was there for him? Rhyan had no answers to it and it worried him – a lot.

*

Daemon was hidden several blocks away, among old containers, in an area people never voluntarily ventured into. He was back. Back on Cybertron – the place of his birth and the place where he had been twisted beyond recognition, where Synchrony had been changed into a mindless drone, a killer without conscience.   
He shivered.   
Since they had arrived here, Daemon had found his CPU in uproar, worked up over the events of the last months, unable to get a clear thought. His life had been destroyed by the Quintessons once. He had regained it after millennia, after an eternity, when he had met Rhyan Masters. Now it had been destroyed again, this time by a life form humans had created with Cybertronian technology, a woman called Angela Howard, code name Gemini. Rhyan was still with him, but he was plagued by the same guilt, the same anger and fear, the same helplessness Daemon felt. He didn't want to bother his partner, who had endured so much already, with his own petty problems. So he had started to distract himself by hacking into UserNet or trying to get into the other Nets. It had been a nice past time, but it no longer kept him as occupied as he had thought it would, as it had been in the beginning.   
Daemon's shields were thinning, cracking or had already cracked in so many places, he was unable to repair them. Things were leaking. Old things. Dark things. Memories he hated but still had. Memories he wished could be erased but which were so much part of him, it would be like killing himself. He shuddered and tried to whip up some kind of defense against the age-old memories. It was like trying to remove water from a sinking ship with a sieve. Rhyan's distress was leaking as well, his human Interface partner's pain and despair pressing in. Rhyan had had one disappointment after another and he was trying to think for both of them now, trying to find a way to continue their lives. Unlike the other Sentinels Daemon couldn't phase his partner, which would have helped slightly concerning space travel. They would always be vulnerable and Daemon's own past was the biggest of those vulnerabilities. If they left... where would they go? What could they do?   
The Sentinel whimpered as the first wave of past memories brushed by him and withdrew.   
Rage.   
It was the first to hit and Daemon shuddered, feeling himself slip.   
Death.   
He cried soundlessly, closing his virtual eyes against the horrors in his own mind. Memories swamped him, took over, drove him past the edge and over it. But he didn’t fall. He was suspended in limbo, witnessing every tid-bit of memory from a time he had been Synchrony.   
Anger.   
Fury.   
Blood.   
He fell back, assaulted by too much all of a sudden. Shaking badly he tried to force the images away.   
Mindless fury.   
Kill!   
He cried, flinging the memories away.   
NO!   
But it was too late.

Rhyan had no warning at all. There was no tingling, no sizzle, no cry. The neuro implants blazed with fiery agony and his mind turned into a mass of molten lava. The world transformed into hell. Rhyan had no time to even scream. A faint gasp escaped his lips and he collapsed, curling into a ball on the cold floor, his body wracked by uncontrolled shivers.   
<Daemon?> It was a weak thought, barely even coherent. <Daemon...no....!> He was assaulted by it all and his defenses were almost down. A whimper escaped his lips and he screwed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face; tears of unbearable pain.   
<.......no......>

*  * *

He came to. It was a slow waking, like drawing himself out of a swamp, and his mind refused to give him details as to what had happened. He remembered fragments and they were bad enough. The first thing he registered was MaryAnn's worried face hovering somewhere to his left. Her lips moved and she seemed to say something to him, but he couldn't hear her. Then another person arrived and helped him over to what had to be a bed. His senses were spinning wildly.  Someone was examining his eyes and taking his pulse. It was a man in his mid-thirties, with fair hair and bright blue eyes.   
"You okay?"  he asked and watched him closely.   
Rhyan nodded briskly which brought a new wave of nausea and he closed his eyes.   
"Sure?"  the man asked with a slightly mocking tone.   
Something reached for him, careful, tentative, hesitant. It was a probe of something familiar, but it hurt, it sent out spikes of needle-sharp pain, and Rhyan suppressed a groan, pulling instinctively back. He found he couldn’t. He was too weak.   
<Rhyan?>   
The voice coming through the link was almost like an anchor. Rhyan reached steadied himself with an effort, ignoring the pain.   
"What's wrong with him, Marc?" That was MaryAnn.   
"I don't know. I have to examine him first. Get someone to fetch my bag."   
Minutes later a boy arrived with a black leather bag and the fair haired man started his examination. After some time -- which seemed like an eternity to Rhyan who hated medical examinations -- he put away his instruments and looked thoughtfully at his patient.   
"And?" MaryAnn had been there through it all and had waited patiently and silently.   
"You have cybernetic implants, correct, Dr. Masters?" the man called Marc asked, eyes never leaving Rhyan's face.   
All of Rhyan's alarm bells went off, partly echoed or enhanced by Daemon's cry inside his head.   
<Get out of there!> the Sentinel hissed.   
Rhyan winced imperceptibly, his hypersenstive link throbbing with each word. <No....>   
"Cybernetic implants?" he echoed, trying to sound and look innocent.   
Marc shot him a look that told Rhyan that the other didn't buy his act. "Yes, implants. I can see the scars and I recognize the work. Highly professional, no patch-up work, intentionally done and long ago. Whoever did it, he was an expert. Earth or here on Cybertron?"   
"What's wrong?"  MaryAnn wanted to know now. "What cybernetic implants?" She gave Rhyan a closer look. "You are a cyborg?"   
"No," he muttered, refusing to give away more.   
"Well, whatever those implants are for and whoever did it, you need help with them. Looks like they are either overloading or malfunctioning now and then." Marc closed his bag. "Problem is, I can't help you there. I'm no cybernetics expert and those I know never handled implants. Your best chance would be in West Central. One of the medics there would surely know what to do." With those words the man got his bag, nodded to MaryAnn and left the room.   
MaryAnn waited till the door closed and then turned to her guest. "Who are you?"  she asked softly.   
"What do you mean?" Rhyan asked back, trying to look innocent again. His head was throbbing abominably now and Daemon was expressing his alarm at their discoveries.   
MaryAnn's eyes held a cold expression. "You know what I mean, and to give you a bit of a clue: we put your name through the computer and you came out dead. And I mean dead. You worked on a classified project back on Earth. I tried to dig deeper, but my contacts won't or can't tell me more. All they could tell me was that the project failed. I know what 'failed' means in classified terms. It's been destroyed. I gave my contacts the names of your friends and they came out missing. And they worked on the same project, my friend. It was called 'Project', so much I was able to get. Catchy name."   
Rhyan never moved a muscle, but his alarm was growing.   
"The question is: if you are dead, and I mean dead as in 'buried', why are you still alive? I tried to answer that question myself, but for the goverment you no longer exist. It's not just that you were cleared out of the computer for special reasons, but you are marked as, citation: 'missing in action, presumed dead', end of citation. And now - ,"  she lifted her eyebrows, " - now you pop up here, asking for papers, for illegal papers. Ain't that a good reason to ask who you are?"   
"My name is Rhyan Masters,"  Rhyan said coldly. "And I am not dead."   
"I want to know who you really are," MaryAnn insisted.   
Rhyan rose unsteadily. "And I just told you. Good day, Mrs. Joshua. Thank you for your hospitality. I have to leave now." With that he walked out of the room, concentrating hard on walking, ignoring everything else. If he got distracted he would lose this tedious control and his body would give in to the terrible weakness that kept permeating it. Daemon was with him, whispering softly, guiding him. He didn't know how he arrived where Daemon was parked or whether Daemon had moved to meet him. He didn't care. All he knew was the open door, the soft seats and the incredible longing to simply sleep.   
<Sorry......> Daemon whispered as Rhyan sank down on the driver's seat.   
"’Tis okay...."   
<No, it’s not. I didn’t want to hurt you!>   
Masters was too confused and in mental pain to use the link to communicate anymore. It was hard enough to catch a thought anyway.   
"What happened?" he mumbled.   
<Shields cracked.... no control.....>   
He understood. Too much pressure and no release. Daemon had had to go down one time or another, but it had pulled Rhyan with it all the way.   
<Hurt you>   
"No."   
<Yes, I did>   
Rhyan sighed, eyes closed, trying to get his own shields back, getting control back. He was recovering, but he still felt like he had just been run over by a truck. In every sense of the word.   
"No," he mumbled again. "Maybe in the past --" Daemon flinched back, "—but not now. Was an accident." He smiled weakly. "To tell the truth, ever since we arrived here I was expecting you to break one day, just not like..... this."   
<Violent>   
"Yes, in a way." He sighed. "Just let it go. Happened."   
<Shouldn’t have> Daemon protested weakly. <Not any more>   
"It did. Accept it. I do." Rhyan felt his mind relax more and more, and he was shutting down.   
Daemon was wrapped up around him through the mindlink, a dark cloud, looking cold but far from it. Rhyan drifted off and his mind relaxed more and more.

Daemon watched his partner fall asleep and he felt devastated. What had he done? He had nearly killed him! One slip!   
<.....let it go.....> Rhyan’s mind voice mumbled all of a sudden and for a brief second they were closer than they had ever been. Daemon gasped, then felt his whole self relax completely. Like his human partner he shut down, unable to resist any longer.

Not far away from them stood a young woman in a satin jacket. She was watching the strange blue and black car, watched Rhyan sink into the seat, his lips moving as if he was talking to it. And maybe he was. And maybe he was receiving an answer. Machine life was nothing out of the ordinary. Masters curled up in the seat, appearing beaten and in pain, emotionally wrung, and Renee winced in sympathy. He continued talking now and then. Finally the windows darkened automatically and cut her out.   
Renee watched for some more time.   
And then she left.

* * *

She was awake.   
It was the same as usual. No actual waking up, just being back on-line. But this time it felt weird, strange... unaccustomed. Something had happened... to her. Mel felt her circuits battling her confusion and then it all came back to her.   
Her skin rippling and moving.   
Her body feeling strange.   
The mind-numbing pain.   
And then there had been nothing, only unconsciousness.   
Mel gasped and tried to sit up, but something, someone, kept her back. She heard a voice and her audio receptors tried to translate the sound into a language she understood.   
"...okay. Just calm down. Mel, please!"   
"Dad?"   
She discovered someone close to her and focused on the blur which soon resolved into a face. Her father's face.   
"It's okay, honey. Just calm down. You are in med bay."   
She looked around and discovered the environment she was used to: a medical room. She had been in those rooms countless times before, both as a patient – which had been less often – and doing her job as a counselor and consultant in psychological matters.   
"Dad?" she whispered again. "What happened?"   
Someone else appeared in her line of sight. "We'll explain everything later," First Aid said. "Just relax and let me examine you."   
Something was wrong, she realized. She felt it, her empathic powers supplying her with several emotions coming from Spike and First Aid that told her they were worried. More worried than they wanted her to know. And there was also someone else here, someone whose emotions she received much clearer, whose emotions had always been the clearest to her, and right now she felt guilt from him. Nightmare. She wanted to tell him to stop it, not to go back to blaming himself once again, but she had to find out what had happened to her first. And the examination might give her a few clues. Hopefully.....

Two hours later she knew neither of the medics had a single clue as to what had happened to her. Disaster had explained that she had been found unconscious, that she had been here for more than a day, and that her metabolism was acting up severely. She had received several dozen units of energon and her body had used it all up in its strange outbreaks of ...morphing.   
"Morphing?" Mel echoed.   
Since waking up she had felt fine and her skin had no longer rippled or moved in strange ways. She felt perfectly normal, as if nothing had ever happened. But she also had no clue as of what had occurred before. The last thirty-six hours were a blank, especially in her long-term databanks.   
"Yes, morphing. It's the only way I can phrase it," the Decepticon explained. "It was as if you were trying to, well, transform."   
"But I don't transform!" she protested. "I'm not built to do it! I'm just a hybrid!"   
Disaster smiled slightly. "I think there is far more to this body than you think, Melissa. More than we might ever find out with our instruments." He shrugged. "There might be another way to get to the bottom of this."   
"Yes?" she asked warily.   
"I want you to tell me what you did before it all started. What was your emotional state like? Was there anything that gave you a lot of happiness, worried you, distraught you?"   
She frowned. "Well, I was in my quarters," she finally said. "I wasn't feeling well, but every time I thought I should go and see one of you guys, it stopped."   
"What were you doing at the time?"   
"Nothing in particular. I think I was pondering rearranging some stuff to make it look more like home." Mel grinned sheepishly.   
Disaster smiled and nodded. "What was your emotional state like?"   
Mel evaded the dark red optics. "Nothing special," she said, trying to sound convincing. She did not.   
"Mel.... I want to help you and you know as much as I do that this won't help at all. You are a trained counselor, you know how difficult it is for a patient to talk about his emotional state. And because you know, you evade me. How did you feel at that time?"   
She inhaled deeply, staring at the floor. "Alone," she finally whispered. "Alone and lost. I'm in this new body and I'm no longer me. I'm in a world I knew but never lived in, dwarfing myself, my old life, my old friends and most of my family. I'm no longer who I was before and I have no idea who I am now."   
Disaster was silent, watching her, letting her talk.   
"Everyone tries to help, but no one understands. None of you know what it is like. You can't. Not one of you was ever human and I was never a robot. And I'm not even now. I'm an outsider to both worlds...." Her voice was starting to break.   
And then it happened.   
Her hair was moving erratically as it did sometimes, but now her skin was rippling as well. Disaster pushed himself away from the shelf he was leaning against, alert all of a sudden.   
"Mel...."   
She hadn't even noticed, but now her head came up and her black optics widened. "Disaster!" she exclaimed, fear audible in her voice.   
He saw it was worse than before.   
"No!" she cried.   
But it was too late. Her body seemed to ....flow, for a better word, and then bend and twist. It was like a transformation among Cybertronians, just not with parts shifting and rearranging but a whole body liquefying and then shaping a new form. Mel gasped almost inaudibly and then it was over.   
Disaster stared.   
Mel stared back.   
"Uhm...." he made.   
"What...happened?" she whispered. "Disaster, what happened?!"   
"I.... I'm not sure....."

* * *

Nightmare was unable to do more than just stare. His optics were wide and an expression of disbelief was on his features. "She did what?!" he finally managed hoarsely.   
"She kind of transformed," Disaster said slowly. "I think her emotional state triggered it. Her feeling of being alone, of not belonging, of having to be like us. Maybe it was always in her and got triggered now, but maybe it was just something her body developed to help. First Aid checked her and her metabolism and general makeup are the same, just in another mode."   
"Can I see her?" the Gatekeeper asked.   
"Of course. Spike is with her at the moment and she has not yet tried to transform back. And I'd call it more of a morphing."   
They walked over to the room and Disaster nodded at the former Decepticon to go on ahead. Nightmare did so after some hesitation. As Disaster had told him, Spike was with his daughter and he looked over to the door as Nightmare entered, smiling briefly. And then Nightmare saw what Disaster had only described to him.   
Mel was no longer humanoid.   
Not even close to it.   
First of all she had a four-legged mode now, her fingers and feet nothing but clawed paws. Her skin was still colored in gray and black. Her legs were black, as was her back, and the rest was dark gray. Generally she looked like a large cat. The head reminded him of a leopards, but more slender, the ears larger and pointed like a horse's. Her body appeared powerful, also cat-like, almost like a cheetah's, and if it weren't for the coloring, it would look almost real. Now she appeared like a metal statue of a large cat come to life.   
"Hi, Mel," Nightmare now said, summoning a smile he didn't feel like at all.   
The cat's head turned and he looked at the well-known, liquid black optics. She was frightened out of her mind, he discovered with painful clarity. She was scared of what had happened.   
"How do you feel?" he asked nevertheless.   
"As well as you can expect under these circumstances," she replied in a near-whisper.   
Nightmare came closer, trying not to scare her. He didn't know what to do and all he could do was be there for her, as he had been in the past.   
"You'll be okay," he now said, feeling totally helpless.   
Mel's optics met his and he shivered. She looked so devastated!   
"It's not the end of the world," Spike added.   
"No, my metamorphosis was," she muttered dejectedly. "And this concludes it. Whatever I am, I'm neither human nor robot."   
"You are Melissa Witwicky," Nightmare said levelly. "You are my friend and you are *someone*. You have a name, you have a family, you have friends! What happened to you was..." He hesitated, guilt flooding him. "It was an accident and I wish I could undo what has been done. I can't. I have to accept it and so have you."   
Mel stared at the floor, her ears flicking back and forth. "I have to think about it. I have to be alone," she whispered.   
"No, you don't," Nightmare told her immediately. "You need friends and if you have to brood, do it with company."   
She looked away again. "Maybe."   
"No," her father now added. "Not maybe. Definitely. I had friends who helped me with my Protogen body, and you have friends who want to help you. Accept it, Mel. Trust me, it helps more than solitude and trying to figure out why."   
She sighed. "Maybe," she only muttered again, but she no longer sounded so convinced.   
Maybe it was what she needed. Company. And there were friends who offered company, Nightmare among them. All she had to do was accept.

* * *

It wasn't the best place in town, but it was affordable and it was clean. At least the rooms were. The street had seen better days and aliens and humans alike hung around the walkways and the entrance. Rhyan didn't mind them and had rented the room for the next month. The landlord was an alien with a basic humanoid form and a sickly yellow skin color, as well a lizard-like appearance. He had only looked at his new tenant once, then given him the key and mumbled something about the fifth floor. Now Rhyan lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find sleep. It eluded him.   
A knock startled him and he rose, cautiously checking through the peephole. He was surprised by who was visiting.   
"Renee?"   
The young woman pushed past him into the room, using his surprise about her visit, looking around. "Nice place, Doc."   
"What are you doing here?" Rhyan stuttered.   
"Paying you a visit." She flopped down in an old, used chair.   
Rhyan frowned. "Okay, that was a lie, now the truth."   
Renee grimaced. "I'm just being friendly. You left without a good-bye, so I thought I come over and ask what happened between you and MaryAnn."   
"Ask her."   
"She won't talk about it and all Marc told me that you need medical help, but that it should be real professional help. He said something about cybernetics."   
Rhyan sighed.   
"So it's true."   
"Why do you want to know?"   
Renee arched an eyebrow. "Curious. I told you, you are not normal, Doc. Now Marc told me a few things, MaryAnn somehow managed to scare you off to this place, and you talk to your car."   
Rhyan's head whipped up and he stared at Renee before he could control his reaction. She smirked. Rhyan cursed softly. She had wanted this reaction.   
"So what?" he growled.   
"Care to spill some? I want to know who I have the honor knowing."   
"Someone who likes to keep his past and his personal story to himself."   
She smiled brightly. "Okay, then I'll guess. MaryAnn must have run your name through the computer to get to some of the data that upset you so much. So either you are a wanted criminal or you simply wanted to disappear. Looking at you, I'd say the latter. You came to Cybertron, probably from Earth, and you arrived by shuttle. You have no connections here, you have no money and you wanted forged papers. You are on the run, but not from the police because otherwise you'd have gone on and not stayed around." She settled down more comfortably. "Then there is the cybernetics. What I got from Marc is that it is professional work, that it was done a long time ago, and that he wouldn't touch those implants if not really necessary. You also have nightmares and they are not exactly light ones. And then I saw you talk to your car, which I have to confess is quite a machine."   
Rhyan rubbed his eyes, very much aware of his mental exhaustion.   
"Well?" Renee demanded.   
"It's need to know and you don't need to know," he finally said, eyes hard.   
"You might need help and I am that help, Doc."   
"No, you aren't, Renee," Rhyan interrupted her.   
"You want to fend for yourself?"   
"Yes."   
She rose slowly. "You won't succeed. You need friends here and right now you don't have any. You want papers, you might need money and a way out of here. Where do you want to find it?"   
"I have my ways."   
Renee shook her head and sighed. But she left. When the door had closed after her, Rhyan sat back down on the bead, his head throbbing dully. He felt Daemon's presence, but he didn't acknowledge it. Renee was right and he knew it. But he also didn't want to involve her anymore. He had to find a way out of here, for both of them.   
<Some more time and I'm inside the network> Daemon whispered.   
Rhyan only nodded. <How long>   
<A few more days. I've to be careful because of the guards and traps>   
<Okay.>   
An hour later he was asleep.

* * *

Ex-Colonel Jefferson Winters stopped and his eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Someone had just passed by him and he knew the person. At least he had seen him before, ever so fleetingly, but the picture had been in one of the memos he had received. Dr. Rhyan Masters, Project’s key operative.   
There was no doubt about it. Every Interface knew Masters. Every Interface knew about Daemon. He was unique and he was a constant source of subconscious worry for Midnight. And now Rhyan Masters was on Cybertron.....and if he was here, where was Daemon? Was he here as well? Most likely. And why didn’t they know about it?   
Jeff counted off some money, paid for the sandwich, and started to follow Masters. He was heading toward the park, away from the downtown area, and toward what people had started to call The Shades. Here lived those who had not made their fortune or hadn’t had the money to pay the high prices of downtown and the more expensive suburbs, or those who had lost their job and money. It was also the area where the smugglers resided, where dealers made their little fortune. Police forces battled the crime, but success was fleeting. As with every city there was crime and there was day-to-day life. Both belonged together and both thrived off each other.   
Masters entered one of the better apartment buildings while Jeff stopped outside. He cast a look over the name plates and found none saying ‘Masters’. He circled the building, noting the run-down state and the dirty alley ways, but it was still looking better than what he had seen in the center of The Shades.  Noting down the address he walked back, thoughtfully chewing on his sandwich.   
<Wild Card?>   
<Yes?>   
<Check something for me?>   
<Sure>   
<Dr. Rhyan Masters>   
There was silence at the other end of the Interface link. <*The* Dr. Masters?>   
Jeff smiled slightly. <Exactly>   
<What are you looking for?>   
<I want to know his last known residence>   
<May I ask why?>   
Jeff smiled. <Because I want to check whether I need glasses and a sanity check or not>   
Wild Card was confused, but he complied, starting the request.  Jeff got an answer as he entered the monorail station to take a train back to West Central.   
<Dr. Masters’ last known address is on Earth but it seems he is no longer there. Project was discontinued, he quit SCT services and didn’t accept reassignment back to the Ameropean Forces. His trace disappears in nothingness. He is presumed dead. Now tell me why you wanted the check?>   
<Anything about Daemon?> Jeff asked without answering.   
<No. Not a word. Want me to check?> Wild Card sounded exasperated.   
<No> Jeff stepped into the arriving monorail.   
<So?>   
<I think they are here on Cybertron> his partner finally told him.   
Wild Card was shocked for a moment. <Here?!>   
<Yes, here. I saw him, Wild Card>   
<We have to tell Mid!>   
<What for?>   
<Jeff! If Masters is on Cybertron, so is Daemon, and you know what Daemon is!>   
<Yes, I know. But I suspect he has been here for some time now and nothing has occurred yet>   
<He is here for a reason> Wild Card argued.   
<Maybe because he had nowhere else to go?>   
The Sentinel sighed. <Yes, maybe>   
Project was no more and Masters had declined going back into the government forces. He had left Earth to come to Cybertron and he had been here for a while without contacting them. Maybe he was just in transition.   
<Where to?> Wild Card wanted to know.   
<Wherever he feels save?> Jeff asked softly.   
<Still, Midnight has to know>   
Winters sighed. <I’ll be back in a few minutes. Run another background, then find Midnight>

* * *

Daemon scanned his partner and he knew Rhyan was getting worse. It was like a vicious circle. Daemon was accessing Rhyan's cyber-implants to keep himself stable and Rhyan was in turn reaching out for him to help; the more help he received, the more dependent he grew on his human partner and the more he put the fragile link under stress. But he couldn't simply withdraw.....   
He needed his partner.   
He kept him sane.   
He was his lifeline.....

* * *

Melissa regarded her new form in the large mirror and though it was frightening, it was also ....nice. Very nice. She looked smooth, slender, powerful and fast. She had tried it out already and her form was as lithe as a cat, easy to balance and used a minor amount of energon even when she was running and jumping. Unlike a real robot's body, she seemed to have muscles moving under a skin of flexible metal.   
She turned and nearly ran into Nightmare. "Oh, hi!" she greeted him.   
"Looks like you are much better, MJ." Nightmare smiled.   
"A lot compared to a few days ago. Thanks to my Dad and also to you."   
"Me?"   
"You were there for me, Nightmare. You kept me focused.... you made me accept my change." Her serious optics met his. "I owe you my life and my sanity."   
Nightmare was visibly embarrassed. He was a warrior, had been a professional Assassin, had lived for millions of years, had died at the hands of the Autobots, and he had been reborn as a Gatekeeper, which he was with pride and honor. He had received the thanks of his comrades, of his commanders, of his lord Megatron; even of the Veneran at the time. Someone thanking him for doing nothing but sitting and listening, being bodily present.... it was like facing a new and unknown enemy.   
Mel smiled and suddenly initiated the morphing process. Nightmare stepped back in surprise, gaping as he witnessed the smooth transformation, something totally unlike Cybertronian shape-shifting.   
"Wow," he whispered.   
Mel grinned at his amazement. "Cool, eh?"   
"Huh, very. Looks like you trained a bit."   
Her grin grew bigger. "Yes, and it's easy." Mel grew serious again. "I need to work on a lot, though, and it will take more time to put me totally at ease with everything, but it is a start."   
Nightmare nodded, glad she saw it this way now. The flapping of wings alerted him to the arrival of his little friend.   
"Oi!" Bat declared, landing on his robot partner's shoulder. "Wossname!"   
"I take that as a compliment," Mel chuckled.   
Bat's faceted eyes swirled. "Nice looks. Nice morphing. Oi!" He gave her a big toothy grin.   
Mel scratched his neck and then shot Nightmare a look. "Care for a little walk?"   
He smiled and offered her his arm. "Of course."   
She took it and they left the room arm in arm, Mel feeling totally relaxed for the very first time. She knew she would have problems in the future, but right now everything was okay in her book.

* * *

Steve had never ventured into this part of Strata, but he knew places like this on other planets and he knew what to expect. This was not the worst part of town, but if nothing was done about it, it would be in a few years. Everything was deteriorating and people who had thought they could make a fortune on Cybertron and failed had moved here. The motel Jeff had seen Masters enter was not far from the city limits.   
<<Be careful>> Midnight said.   
<<I always am>>   
A snort answered him and Steve grinned. Midnight had been shocked, surprised and finally highly worked up over Daemon's presence here on Cybertron, even though no one could say with conviction that the Sentinel was here. But if Masters was, so was Daemon. Wild Card had talked with his friend and leader for a long time, explaining that rushing in and detaining Daemon was no option. They were both hiding for a reason and scaring them was not the best way to start talking. And finally Midnight had grudgingly agreed. Steve would visit Masters and talk with him. Jeff had protested against it because going in alone was never a good idea, but the plan had been set. If all went down the drain Steve could always phase.   
Now he walked past the old reception desk, ignoring the yellow-skinned alien looking at him through narrowed reptilian eyes. Steve climbed the stairs and went straight for the apartment they had finally found out Rhyan had rented. It had been a difficult search, but Soundwave had come up with the results within six hours. Rhyan had rented a room under a false name and he had transferred the money from an account under another false name. Soundwave had followed every transfer to any of the rooms and though a few were from false accounts, this one had come into existence only lately. Midnight suspected that Daemon had managed to hack into UserNet, as well as several other Networks, and was handling Rhyan's disguise. And if he had managed that they might soon be able to disappear completely.   
Arriving at the apartment door, Steve checked the corridor and found he was alone. He knocked. No one answered. He knocked once more and watched the peephole for activity, but there was nothing again.   
"Okay, plan B," he muttered and got out his infiltration kit. Within a second he was inside and closed the door after him.   
The apartment was small, consisting of only two rooms. There was a bed, a small table with two chairs and a tiny kitchen. Steve checked for any personal items and found none. Masters seemed to have come here without any belongings.   
<<Either he left in a hurry or he wanted to leave his old life behind him>>   
<<Probably both>>   
<<I'll wait until he comes back>>   
<<Steve....>>   
<<I'll be all right>>   
Midnight sighed. <<Okay>>   
Steve settled down on one of the chairs and made himself comfortable, preparing for a longer wait.

* * *

Rhyan returned home close to midnight. He had been running errands all day, trying to find the most inconspicuous way to leave Cybertron. He and Daemon had discussed it for a long, long time now. His partner had access to UserNet, as well as the smaller nets connected to it, and arranging a flight or even the purchase of a small shuttle would be easy. Still, Rhyan wanted to make sure and so he had scouted around the space port. He had found three shuttle companies who didn't ask many questions and would sell shuttles to just about everyone who had the money to pay their prices. One company was even offering short-term rental, but that would mean Rhyan had to return the shuttle somewhere. And that meant exposure. So they had finally agreed on buying a ship and Rhyan had talked with a few people. In about two days they would be able to leave if they wanted to.   
Finances had been taken care of as well now. Daemon had created several accounts to various names and they had enough money to make it for some time. Rhyan had also obtained an exo-suit from a guy working in the back of some kind of sleazy adult store, but he didn't really mind. He had sunken low and he would use whatever means were necessary to get what he needed. And money was always the best way to get what he most needed. The suit was professionally done and he really didn't want to know where it had come from.   
Now he walked up the stairs to his apartment, feeling tired. His head was throbbing and he knew it had been too much again lately. His cybernetics were giving off waves of burning pain and he had a hard time concentrating. He needed medical help, but for that he would have to find a real expert, not the cheap back alley medics. Rhyan sighed. Maybe if they were finally off this planet they would be able to find someone. Until then he had to endure the pressure coming from and through the cybernetic implants. Daemon was trying to relief the pressure, but since he needed the link the most, it was like taking water away from the thirsty.   
Masters opened the door and stepped inside his small apartment, and stopped.   
"Good evening, Dr. Masters," a voice said. "Don't be alarmed."   
Rhyan stepped back immediately, highly alarmed, Daemon immediately asking what was wrong.   
"Parker!?" he finally exclaimed.   
"Yes." Steven Parker rose from the chair he had occupied and stepped into the small circle of light coming through the window. "I've come to talk."   
Rhyan's face closed. "I'm no mood to, so if you'll please excuse me....?"   
Steve shook his head. "Won't work, Doctor. Just listen to what I have to say, then you can decide what to do. Midnight would like to talk to both of you, Daemon and yourself, and you can choose where. We know you've been here for some time now and that you could leave any time, probably without any of us ever detecting one of your moves, but we don't want that. Rhyan, we want to help you."   
Masters briefly closed his eyes as the throbs increased. "Please leave," was all he said.   
Steve sighed. "All right, but please remember that we are not your enemy, Rhyan," he said softly. "We want to help, with no strings attached. You helped us and now you need help yourself. Why not accept it when given freely?"   
Rhyan didn't answer and Parker finally left. When he heard the door close he stumbled over to the bed and sank onto it, resting his aching head in his hands. Daemon's presence was everywhere, worried and angry in one.   
<We have to leave!>   
<They are watching us> Rhyan said tiredly.   
<We can still make it>   
<Maybe> Rhyan sighed. <And maybe we really need help> Shock coursed through him, shock coming from his partner. <Daemon....>   
<I won't go back!>   
<We should at least listen to what they have to offer>   
<I won't go back!!>   
Rhyan closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He felt like his brain was about to explode. He rode the pain, unable to do more, and his strained shields were cracking more and more. Soon he wouldn't be able to take it any longer.   
<I'm not talking about going back, partner. I'm talking about hearing them out and maybe thinking about accepting some of the help they want to give>   
<Rhyan!>   
<No, you listen to me now!> Rhyan hissed harshly. <We can't go on like this without help! Even if we get off this metal planet, we still need help! I need help!>   
Daemon faltered and Rhyan felt his gentle probing, his touch, and how he winced away. He had felt the strain, the pressure, the pain, and he knew he was responsible for a large part of it.   
<Rhy.....>   
<Let's sleep over it> Masters only said tiredly and lay back on the bed.

Daemon, hidden safely but too far away from the motel for his own liking, sighed softly and monitored his human partner as he fell asleep. His logical mind told him that Rhyan was right, that they needed help, but his fear and his nightmares always came back stronger each time he thought about it. He couldn't go back among to Sentinels! They knew who he was and they knew what was hidden inside him. What if they decided to disconnect him and Rhyan? What if they simply terminated him? Their Interface was based on mostly artificial help, Rhyan Masters' implants, and not on the standard procedure of linking two minds through more or less telepathic ways. They could separate them...it was possible.   
Indecision mixed with worry about the welfare of his partner, and he knew Rhyan's health would always take priority. Rhyan was weakening, his implants needed servicing and there was only this one way to insure it was done professionally.   
But could the part of Synchrony still living inside Daemon sacrifice himself for a human life?

* * *

Rodimus Prime regarded his friend with unreadable optics. "Are you sure you want to handle it like this, Mid? Daemon is dangerous."   
"I know and I made up my mind. I decided to offer help and it won't do to pop up with a battalion behind me. Steve and I will be fine, trust me."   
Rodimus sighed once more. "I don't feel at ease with it. Not at all. I don't like the idea of Daemon somewhere about on Cybertron to begin with. He somehow managed to get through port security and has been hiding out for Primus knows how long now. He is a dangerous individual, not just because of his invisibility."   
Midnight smiled humorlessly. "Yes, he is dangerous, but no more than any of us. We both know his past and I understand him. And he is Interfaced. We have to include that into the equation. Whatever Daemon was or still is, he won't risk his partner's life....ever. He can't. No Interfaced robot can and you know it, Rodimus."   
The young Prime smiled. "Yep, I do. But you also said that Steve mentioned Rhyan isn't well...."   
Midnight sighed. "Yes, but I guess it has something to do with what is subconsciously coming through the link. We know Synchrony is beneath the layers of Daemon and that he sometimes surfaces. Rhyan goes through the changes with his partner."   
"Kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," Rodimus muttered.   
"Come again?"   
"Oh, Earth story. It's about a scientist who, through experimenting on himself with a potion, brings out his subdued evil side. It emerges sporadically and is out of his control, more or less."   
Midnight frowned. "Okay, I see the parallels."   
"And because of the danger of Daemon releasing Synchrony, I think it's far too dangerous to go there alone. If Rhyan is unable to intervene...."   
"Roddy, I'm not some kind of green cadet!"   
Rodimus chuckled. "Of course not. I know you can take him on, but I also know you wouldn't like it."   
"Neither did I like taking on Fang at the time, though I have to confess it had different reasons," Midnight told him. "And I'm going, whatever your arguments are. Between Steve and me we should be able to handle the situation."   
Rodimus shrugged and leaned back. "Okay, fine, do it. Just be careful."   
"I always am."   
"Can I quote you on that?" Rodimus grinned.   
"Get lost," Midnight grumbled and then left the office.   
The moment he was gone, Rodimus grew serious again. He knew that if Midnight convinced Daemon to come with him, West Central would have a delicate situation on its hands. He would have to inform his partner, Optimus Prime, and he would have to alert Kup in case security was needed. And he knew what Kup's reaction would be.   
"Oh, fun," he muttered.

* * *

Midnight didn’t really know what to expect. He had met Daemon once before and it had been a rather pleasant meeting, though he had to confess that he had felt slightly prejudiced concerning the former Quintesson killer. But it had changed, mainly because he had been able to distance himself from the events around Project, had been able to reread the logs from the Quintesson scientists, and had realized that though Daemon had been a killer named Synchrony, Sync himself had been nothing but an innocent victim of his masters. Midnight had never known the Quintessons as slave masters, but he had had his share of tales, of friends’ nightmares and old times coming back to haunt them. Now Daemon was here on Cybertron and apparently hiding out. No one had sighted him outside the city limits and no one had seen him in robot mode. Rhyan was cooped up in a cheap motel, but it seemed they were getting ready to move.   
Whether going out to meet Daemon was a good idea or not, he didn’t know. He hadn’t taken any other Sentinel along and he hoped he would be able to get through this without losing several layers of paint and metal. Daemon was unpredictable and though he was Interfaced in a strange way, he was still suffering from his past, from what was inside. Midnight had seen this when Daemon had killed Capricorn, though for Capricorn it had been a relief.   
But Daemon had contacted them. He wanted the meeting, so he supposed that he wanted help or was at least prepared to listen to Midnight's arguments.   
The Sentinel leader walked down the almost deserted street, alert for any sudden movements, but this part of the city was almost dead. Construction work, which had been going on for months now, had been stopped due to problems within the area. It was a ghost town of half-finished building, skeletons of the real thing, and abandoned building material. And then he detected movement. Midnight whirled around and was barely able to suppress his instinct to pull his weapon. Daemon stepped out of the shadow of what would one day be a towering building and was now nothing but a five story high skeleton.   
"Hello, Daemon," he said quietly.   
Compared to other robots Daemon had a slightly frightening appearance, but Midnight was familiar with frightening. Mid's own appearance was even worse.   
"Is Rhyan with you?"   
"He is," Daemon answered flatly, but he didn’t elaborate. The human could be anywhere.   
"Why didn’t you come to us when you arrived here?" Midnight simply asked without beating around the bush.   
"What for?"   
"For help."   
An undefined emotion flickered over the visible half of his face. "Help? What help could you give us? None. You were glad when I opted to stay away from Cybertron, weren’t you? I’m a danger to everyone, most of all other Sentinels."   
"Daemon, please!"   
Hard red optics met his. "You know it’s true, Midnight. I am Synchrony and my past will always be with me. Everyone knows and everyone will avoid me. Rhyan and I are better off some place else and we will leave as soon as we can, so don’t worry."   
"It’s my job to worry," the Sentinel leader said softly.   
"I’m not one of yours."   
"You are a Sentinel"   
"No,"  Daemon interrupted him rudely. "I’m not. I know you want me to be, but I’m not. The Sentinel was killed when the Quintessons started their experiments. Whatever I am now, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. You are not responsible for me."   
Midnight shook his head, but Daemon didn’t let him say whatever it was he wanted.   
"The Quintessons tampered with me, reprogrammed and twisted my core unit. Then the humans changed me again and finally I was given this body, which is nothing what I was before. Originally I was born a Sentinel, now I’m nothing like it anymore. Accept it," he whispered.   
"I can’t. Even if you aren’t a Sentinel anymore, I can’t stop caring. You and Rhyan are Interfaced"   
"No! And stop this worrying about me!" Daemon hissed. "I’m not worth it!"   
"That’s where you are wrong, Daemon. You are worth it," Midnight said softly, holding the irate optics.   
Daemon sighed deeply. "You want me to come back with you, but you are only inviting trouble, big time trouble. Let me go. Please!"   
"Why don’t you let us help you? Or at least try?" Midnight asked.   
"Because I know how it will end. I can’t suppress what I was and what the Quintessons made me. I can’t even stop hurting my own partner, for crying out loud! Whenever my mind lashes out, he takes the brunt of it!"   
"But we can teach you how to handle this."   
Indecision warred with instinctive fear of what would be then.   
"Please," Midnight added.   
"Okay," a new voice said and Midnight turned to see Rhyan coming out of the shadows.   
<Mid>   
<I see it>   
Rhyan looked ready to faint any moment. His face was a mirror of his soul, a soul tormented, torn and in pain. He was very pale, had lost weight and his eyes lay deep and shadowed. And he saw Daemon’s reaction to his partner’s revelation. The Sentinel had moved protectively closer.   
"Rhyan, no!"   
"We need help and you know it," Rhyan said tiredly.   
"No!"   
Masters closed his eyes and he seemed to sway a bit. "Let’s just try it, okay?"   
Daemon was trembling inside, reaching for his partner through the link he despised so much and needed so badly in one. The Interface, this unusual connection between a hybrid Sentinel and a human with cyber-enhancement, had been the only thing keeping him sane since his reawakening. He depended on Rhyan for his life and Rhyan gave him the stability he needed to interact with others. But he was also suffering for it, his body unable to take much more of the recent nightmares. The implants were severely stressed and there was no telling when his mind would give out as well. Rhyan needed medical help..... The constant contact was suddenly his doom. It was no longer stressful for them to uphold it, just to battle what was coming through, buffering nightmares and the horrors of the past.   
<Daemon, please> Rhyan now whispered, sounding weak and tired.   
<I ... what happens if... I mean...>   
<Let’s burn that bridge when we get there, okay?>   
Daemon swallowed and finally nodded. He turned to Midnight who seemed to have guessed what had just been decided. "For a limited time," Daemon only said and transformed. Midnight nodded and watched Rhyan get into the car, then he transformed and led the way.

*

Renee watched. She had followed Rhyan from his place to this work area and she had been only mildly surprised that the car was a transforming robot. You saw them all around; it was their planet. But she had been stunned to see how bad Rhyan looked. He looked sick and weak. Of the conversation she had heard little, but she had gotten the drift.   
Masters was Interfaced!   
Chewing on her lower lip she now sat on some metal boxes, thinking. She had thought he was something special, but Interfaced? Renee pondered if she should tell MaryAnn and then decided against it. Why should she know anyway? Renee herself now had to go back to her own life. She hopped off the box and left, disappearing into the shadows of the construction site.

* * *

Rhyan hated hospitals. He always had. It had started as a kid when he had broken his arm and pelvis, a complicated fracture, and had spent weeks in a row in a hospital bed. Then there had been the accident at work, when he had nearly died, surviving only because of the cyber implants. Because of the frequent updates and later because of the stress they had been put under through Daemon, Rhyan had been in hospital quite regularly. And now he was in a Cybertronian med bay. He drew a shuddering breath, suppressing his annoyance and ill feeling. Daemon was not far away, constantly present through the link and he felt just as miserable and afraid as his partner.   
<Daemon, relax> Rhyan whispered wearily. The pressure he was under threatened to crack the last of his shields.   
One of the Interfaces, a man who had introduced himself as Dr. Kyle Scott, walked over and smiled at him. He had conducted a row of tests already and from the looks of it, he wasn’t done yet.   
"Okay, I’m done for now, Dr. Masters, but I want to keep you in med bay for observation purposes," Scott said.   
"Observation?" Rhyan asked cautiously.   
"Your implants," the doctor answered. "I’ve run a complete check and I’ve to confess that I’m surprised you haven’t broken down yet...." Rhyan evaded the curious brown eyes and Dr. Scott sighed. "It happened already, right? When? And don’t deny it. The signs are kind of obvious."   
Rhyan closed his eyes. "Some time ago," he muttered.   
"How bad?"   
"Very."   
Kyle nodded. "Okay, then you are definitely going to spend some time here."   
"Oh, great."   
He smiled. "Half as bad. We need to take the stress off your system, maybe even change some of the settings."   
Rhyan looked alarmed. "Surgery?" he asked, voice rough.   
"If it doesn't get any better." Kyle sat down. "Listen, your situation is unique. Your implants were never destined to be a link to another entity, just to help your body, to substitute for lost abilities. Now you are receiving signals from Daemon, from another mind. You are taking a lot of his stress and it shows. What you had were short-circuits. The implants heal themselves, but the attack continues. You need help or one day it will drive you insane."   
Rhyan sighed deeply. "I hate hospitals," he muttered.   
Kyle grinned brightly. "You’ll get used to us. And we are quite likeable." Then he grew serious again. "Rhyan, this is a serious condition. We need to do something about it. Your body won’t be able to take it much longer."   
Rhyan felt Daemon’s presence retreat. The Sentinel had listened in and was immediately drawing the consequences.   
<Stay> he whispered.   
<I’m hurting you again!>   
<No> He held him back.   
"And my first choice would be to shut down most of your implants for the time being, those you don’t need," he now heard Kyle say.   
Shock coursed through him. "You can’t!"   
"Rhyan," Kyle said intently. "Your life depends on what we do now..."   
"And you as an Interface should know what a separation does!"   
"We are not separating you. I want to put you into a healing tank and tune down Daemon’s input while we strengthen your cybernetic parts." Kyle smiled slightly. "It’s not the first time we do it and we have experience."   
Rhyan rubbed his aching eyes. "When?"   
"As soon as possible, but for now you better get some shut-eye. And Daemon needs to power down as well, so you won’t get plagued by nightmares when he projects."   
<Partner?>   
Daemon's presence trembled ever-so-slight. <Okay> he finally whispered.   
Rhyan nodded and the doctor gestured him to follow him. "In case you need something at night, just call one of the nurses," Kyle explained.   
"Okay."   
The room Kyle led him to was a typical med room, with a multi-purpose bed and several sockets for monitors and other med stuff. Rhyan immediately disliked it, but he simply nodded at Dr.Scott and the medic left him alone after giving him a short introduction to several features of the medical room.   
Rhyan tested the bed and sat down with a sigh.

*

Two hours later he was still unable to sleep. He was dozing, but he always woke, feeling confused and slightly fearful. His head was throbbing dully and the link was a constant burning sensation. Dr. Scott had come back once, about ten minutes after leaving him in the room, and had done something to the cybernetic parts, explaining that it should prepare the artificial parts for later treatment. Rhyan wished it was a stronger dampening field. Right now he was in terrible need of one.   
Daemon was not far away and Rhyan felt his memories pressing in, confronting him with his partner's past once more, but worse this time. Daemon had returned home, to the place of his birth and death at the hands of the Quintessons, and he was unable to work through the nightmares he still had.   
A wave of negative emotions, uttered in an inaudible scream, coursed through him. Rhyan bolted upright with a gasp, almost falling out of the bed as he flailed for a support, and finally did so. He was introduced to the floor in a very rough manner, feeling his leg hit something. From the feeling of it, it would leave a bruise.   
"Daemon?" he asked, voice rough.   
His mind was awhirl with images he couldn't pin a name to and his body was tingling with strange emotions.   
"Oh, damn...." he groaned and pressed his palms against his temples. His headache was flaring and the over-sensitized cyber-implants were on fire.   
Finally everything quieted down, leaving Rhyan wide awake and slightly nauseous. He didn't exactly want to call attention to his rapidly deteriorating state yet. Maybe it was just another attack that would pass soon. He simply slipped out of his room; he definitely needed a walk! Masters walked along the almost endless corridor, gazing at the different doors leading to all the labs and examination rooms in here. The med bay was gigantic. Rhyan knew Daemon was somewhere close by, in one of the high security rooms, but he didn't really know where. Spending some time with his severely disturbed partner might help them both, but first he had to find him. And asking a nurse would not be such a good idea, mainly because he might end up in his own room again. So he simply walked on.   
After some time he knew he was totally lost. This part looked more like a research facility and the labels on the doors proved him right. Curious he stepped into one of the labs, one who wasn't occupied at the moment. The lights switched on automatically as the motion and heat sensors detected his presence. Rhyan suspected it was a feature included for the human and humanoid medical personnel since they couldn't reach the switches. The lab was large and contained a lot of equipment, most of which he didn't have a clue of what it might do. As he looked around he noticed a large door leading to a 'cold room'. A freezer? Even more curious and forgetting his own pain for a while Rhyan went over to the door. It wasn't locked and slid open noiselessly. Behind it was a room only half as large as the lab and stacked with cylinder-shaped Plexiglas containers.   
Rhyan blinked. Cryo chambers? They looked suspiciously like it.... He approached the first and cautiously peered at the shape inside. It was humanoid, frozen in near-eternal sleep to be revived at a later date. The face of the sleeper was pale, looked sculptured, and though relaxed had an unnatural hardness to it. It was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties. Blonde hair, bound back out of her face, framed the paleness. There were no flaws visible on the woman's skin.   
He stumbled away.   
He knew her.   
He had seen her before.   
Rhyan felt nausea rise up inside of him and screwed his eyes shut. Forcing himself to turn he was about to leave when he caught sight of another humanoid shape in a Plexiglas cylinder. This one was a man, older than the woman, dark-haired, and there were faint bruises on his face. And he knew him as well. Memories exploded inside of him and Rhyan fled from the cold room, breathing hard, trying to suppress nightmarish recollections of death and destruction.   
Ian's death.   
Project's death.   
Gemini.   
Daemon was picking up on his partner's distress and he was aware of him calling.   
<They are here> Rhyan whispered hoarsely. <Gemini and Aries>   
Daemon's shock was a physical wave and Masters was dimly aware of his partner's rage.   
And then he was there.   
How, of that Rhyan had no recollection, but he knew Daemon was with him, physically, transformed into his robot mode, armed and dangerous. Alarm klaxons were sounding, pulsing through him as he tried to keep his mind together. He stumbled against one dark colored leg of his partner, holding on for support, reaching out with his mind to keep Daemon from doing something stupid.   
"Daemon, no!" he whispered.   
Someone came into his room and he heard a voice... female... but he had no idea who it was. Rhyan felt his mind breaking down and he didn't care who was present. He was back at the scene where Ian had died. In real life, outside the nightmare, he felt arms around him, holding him, heard a voice soothing him. The sensor links were no longer reflecting his own emotions but trying to send calmness as well. He sobbed softly and finally quieted down.   
He felt spent, totally exhausted, but his mind was still not resting. Now and then he flashed and every time he felt a shiver pass through him, like a tiny electrical jolt. The soothing hands were still there, rubbing his shoulders and he tried to make out what position he was in. His messed up mind was unable to perform the situation report though and he was drifting away from it all, feeling only the gentle touch, hearing the voice.   
And finally his mind cleared enough to take in his surroundings. He was still in the lab, close to the cold room, Daemon close by, and was held by someone. He had collapsed and the one holding him knelt at his side.   
"Dr. Masters?" a female voice asked softly.   
He looked up, blinking, trying to focus on the face. It wasn't human, he discovered with a strange distance to it. It was humanoid, dark-skinned, with golden-speckled eyes, high cheekbones, and ram's horns curling down the cheeks. Curly hair framed it.   
"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely.   
"My name is Kayla. I work here." She smiled, revealing canine teeth. "How do you feel?"   
"Weak," he groaned. "What happened?"   
"You tell me. I can only guess and my best guess is that your implants overloaded because of bad memories. You short-circuited most of your cyber implants." She tapped a device around his wrist. "And I put that on you. It's a dampening field. I know you hate it, but it keeps you coherent and conscious."   
"Daemon!" Rhyan suddenly whispered and tried to get up. Kayla kept him sitting down, displaying a surprising strength. Rhyan turned his head in agitation, needing to know where his partner was.   
"He is as okay as you are, Dr. Masters," Kayla said soothingly. "He broke down as well and we got him to leave the room for now. Kyle will be here any second."   
"I can't contact him!" Rhyan moaned in rising panic, meeting a dead end where his partner had been before.   
"Because of the damper. Daemon is okay, believe me. We won't hurt him. Try to relax, Doctor."   
Rhyan struggled again and failed once more. He felt weak and he wouldn't be able to walk more than a step before breaking down again.   
Dr. Kyle Scott arrived barely a minute later and the concern on his face told Rhyan more than any medical explanation of his condition. It was worse than before.   
"Kayla, prepare the tank," Scott ordered and the dark-skinned alien woman left immediately. "Rhyan, we have to put you into the healing tank," Kyle then explained. "Your implants have deteriorated through the latest attack and the next time it might be even worse..... it could even kill you.   
Rhyan closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "How long?"   
"Well, from what I can see, I'd guess a week or more." Alarm showed on Rhyan's face and Kyle smiled soothingly. "Daemon will be okay, Rhyan. Trust us."   
"Let me talk to him first, okay?"   
"Sure. Just let us do the walking, you relax in a wheelchair." Kyle helped him over to the chair someone had brought.   
"The tank will be ready in a few hours," he told Rhyan. "I'll go over the basics with you now, so that both you and your partner know what is going to happen."   
"Thanks," Rhyan whispered.

*

Daemon was lost. First his link to Rhyan had sent out distressing signals and he had been torn between his instinct of shutting the whole connection down and trying to help his friend. Rhyan had gone through an emotional hell and Daemon had been sitting in the front row. The powerful frame of the Sentinel was trembling and he was hard pressed not to break out of the high security room only a few feet down the corridor from Rhyan's current position.   
He tried to get through to his partner but there was nothing. He knew Rhyan had been crying, something he had never understood until he had scanned the human body before and after the release of liquid from the eyes. Crying was a relief, helped to ease stress and tension, and it was apparently very good to get emotions back under control. And he knew that giving the person relieving his stress comfort was vital. Daemon hissed in anger at his inability to do so.   
"Daemon?"   
It was Melissa. He cursed her for choosing this moment to try and make small talk. He couldn't handle it right now!   
"I'm in no mood to talk," he growled icily.   
Melissa had somehow magically appeared when everything had gone downhill, when Daemon had been engulfed in hatred of the altered humans now resting in cryogenic sleep, and Rhyan had been losing himself in this rage. Daemon had no idea how she had managed it, but she had been able to lead him to this room, had calmed him and had kept him in line.   
"I don't want to talk," she now said. "I just want to know how you feel."   
"None of your concern," Daemon managed, then was choked off when Rhyan's presence was suddenly, abruptly, cut off. He gave a keening noise and his body was shaken by the agony from his friend.   
<Rhy!> he screamed. <NO!>

Mel had a good idea what Daemon was going through right now, and not only because she had a pretty good imagination. Her empathic powers were screaming at her. And because of what she had picked up and what she was picking up now she had come here.   
"Daemon?" he asked carefully.   
A moan could be heard and she realized how vulnerable Daemon currently was. All his defenses toward the outside were down while he was trying to keep himself stable, keep his partner and himself sane.   
"Please leave me alone....," Daemon whispered shakily.   
Melissa was normally not a prying person, but she was here on 'official' duty as a counselor. Her mind pushed closer and because of the confusion, she managed to touch and infiltrate Daemon's system. She was confronted by raging emotions of guilt, pain, loss and agonizing self-recrimination. Daemon was too busy trying not to lose himself in the flood of human emotions to establish a shield. Mel decided within a nano-second what to do and helped Daemon. She gently placed a shield around him, a warm embrace, something to dampen the pain he felt, something to distract him from the missing connection to his driver. She knew Kayla had wanted to put a dampening device on Rhyan as well and it was currently affecting Daemon. The Sentinel gave a lost whimper. He grasped for a hold and Mel gave him one.   
"What are you doing?" he asked. He tried to sound like his usual self but failed miserably.   
"Help," Mel only answered.   
Daemon trembled, not able to answer, but he also didn't try to pull back. Melissa stayed.

*

After a while Daemon had his emotional responses under control again, though he was still shaky and confused. The flood had wiped him clean, had broken down walls and shields and left him defenseless and shaky. He knew Mel had been with him, that the strange female had seen things Daemon had never wanted anyone to even guess, but it was too late now.   
"Where is Rhyan?" he now asked in a low voice.   
"On his way to the healing tank."   
His head snapped up and blood red optics fixed on the robot in front of him.   
"He needs to recuperate, Daemon. He needs to have the implants repaired and strengthened. Otherwise the next attack might kill him," Mel added quietly.   
Daemon winced and turned away. A soft knock on the door made Mel turn.   
"Hi," a well-known voice said and Daemon almost jumped.   
"Rhy!" he exclaimed before he could stop himself.   
His partner looked cruelly tired and worn, sitting in a wheelchair and pushed by a dark-skinned alien woman Daemon had briefly seen before.   
"Hi, Daemon," he greeted him.   
"I'll be back before we activate the tank," the alien woman said. "Until then, both of you behave, okay?"   
Rhyan nodded and Daemon watched Melissa and the other woman leave. Then he looked down at his friend, guilt washing over him.   
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to flood you!" Daemon whispered and knelt down beside the human. "I couldn't help it..... I remembered and I remembered too much."   
Rhyan smiled slightly. "I know."   
"Are you okay?" the Sentinel wanted to know, voice shaking with guilt.   
"Guess so. You?"   
"Functional."   
Rhyan gave a weak chuckle. "That bad, eh?"   
Daemon avoided the blue eyes. He wished he had the link, but he was also aware of what damage it would do. The separation was like a worst case scenario and it had just occurred. Suddenly he knew for real how much he depended on Dr. Rhyan Masters to keep him sane; without his partner he wouldn't survive, and it wasn't just an empty phrase. He would have to suffer through it for the next days.   
"It was inevitable," he now mumbled.   
Rhyan sighed. "I didn't think it would hit the two of us like this," he confessed softly. "And I didn't think it would....reawaken old memories of my own."   
"Ian was your friend. His death affected you in a predictable manner," Daemon told him matter-of-factly, trying to get at least some of his control back through it.   
Rhyan sighed.   
"It happened. It can not be changed now."   
The former Project operative was silent for a long time. "I know," he finally said. "Listen," he then said. "The time I will be in the tank will be bad. For you more than for me. I want you to accept the help they offer, whatever it means." Daemon was about to protest, but Rhyan held up a hand. "Daemon, listen to me.  They are not the enemy. They want to help."   
"Rhy...."   
"No! Let them help like you let Melissa help."   
Daemon stared at the floor and finally sighed. "What then? What happens after you emerge from the tank?"   
"I'm not sure. We have to see."

* * *

Melissa stepped into the treatment room containing the healing tank. She moved almost soundlessly, her new body as mobile and lithe as her human one. She was looking for someone and she knew she would find him here. There was no other place for him to be. The others had told her not to come. It was dangerous. Mel didn't share the opinion. She had touched his mind; she knew his pain; she could help – if he let her.   
Daemon was sitting on the floor, his dark red optics fixed on the healing tank, a large cylinder filled with a reddish liquid, surrounded by machinery. Currently it contained a small human figure, clad in a creme colored bodysuit, connected to the machines, his face covered by an oxygen mask. Monitors told Mel that Dr. Rhyan Masters was in a drug-induced medical coma, his bodily functions looking just fine. Daemon didn't react as she came closer, continuing to watch his sleeping partner. Mel automatically did a surface scan and detected his emotional upheaval. Because of the cut link Daemon was currently going through the feeling of being totally alone.   
"Mind if I sit down?" she asked quietly.   
Daemon didn't react and Mel simply sat down, joining him in his silent vigil.   
"What do you want?" he finally wanted to know.   
Mel smiled at him. "Keep you company?"   
Daemon growled softly. "I don't need company." He gave her another look, clearly not really sure what she was. "What are you? Some kind of shrink?"   
She chuckled. "In a way, yes. But right now I'm not yet back to work. I just want to see how you are doing."   
"You were in my head," he said flatly.   
"Yes, and I normally don't do it without permission, but you were calling for help and I simply helped." She held his suspicious optics. "I didn't spy and I never would. I am empathic, yes, but I want to help people, not blackmail them."   
Daemon turned away, optics fixing on his partner again.   
"He is not dead," Mel said after a while.   
"To me .... he is for now."   
"But not forever. Rhyan needed the tank, he needs to be cut off to heal. Without this help he would eventually lose his sanity."   
Daemon winced and his hands clenched into fists. "All because of me," he choked out.   
"No, not because of you," Mel insisted.   
"I am the one linked to him! I am the one sending out all those painful and hurting signals!" Daemon snapped, voice trembling. "I am responsible! I wish we had never met!"   
"You don't mean that."   
Daemon jumped to his feet, glaring at Mel as she rose as well. "I mean it! You know what I am and what I was! Don't deny it!"   
"I don't."   
"Then you know what is coming through the link! Rhyan had no other choice but link to me! His cursed cybernetic implants did this! I can't Interface and I still linked to an innocent human!" Daemon's optics glowed in rage. "He would have been safe from me if not for the implants.... safe.... whole... healthy..." he added with a whisper.   
"And without him.... where would you be today?" He stared at her. "Where would you be, Daemon?" Mel asked softly.   
"Probably where I belong: in hell," he answered, voice rough.   
She tilted her head. "Why do you judge yourself like this?"   
"Because it is the truth! I am what my name implies: a demon! An evil spirit!"   
"You are a Sentinel."   
"Not anymore!" he hissed. "Not since the experiments turned me into what they tried to kill!"   
"Deep down inside you are yourself."   
"Deep down inside I'm a cold-blooded, ruthless killer!"   
Mel shook her head. "If you were, if you think you still are, why are you here? I read that your core programming was self-preservation. Why are you still here, exposing yourself to the enemy?"   
"Because to preserve my life I need Rhyan," he answered flatly.   
"Wrong." His optics flared dangerously. "You care. You need Rhyan, yes, of course, but you also care for him. You agreed to get him help by coming here, coming to those you tried to avoid. You wouldn't let him die."   
Daemon wanted to protest, but instead he simply turned away, gazing at the healing tank.   
"Would you?" Mel asked into the silence.   
"No," he whispered. "Never."   
"You are Interfaced. Maybe differently than the other Sentinels, but you are. If he were simply a human linked to you, you could abandon him any second. You can't." She smiled at his lost expression. "Try to trust us at least a little bit, Daemon. None of us wants to hurt you."   
"I can't," he replied in a near-whisper. "It's not in my nature."   
"You trusted Rhyan. You trusted the people at Project to a degree."   
He was silent.   
"You trusted before. Try it again. It doesn't really take that much and it is rewarded," Mel told him, voice gentle and soft. "And it will help Rhyan when he emerges."   
Daemon winced slightly but didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on his sleeping partner again. Mel smiled to herself and left him after a while. As she walked through the lab outside she caught a quizzical look from Disaster. She only nodded, then left med bay altogether.

* * *

Rhyan woke slowly, as if he had been deeply asleep. He felt slightly strange, detached from the world, floating in a vast ocean. His body flowed with the gentle waves, almost flying. He tried to recall how he had come to be here, what had happened, but there was nothing at all. It didn’t even alarm him that much. It was a nice feeling to be so at ease, to feel so peaceful. After a while he felt someone with him. It was a presence, strong but gentle, holding him, guiding him. He felt his lungs expand as he drew a deep breath and his eyes opened. Rhyan blinked, still not knowing where he was. He lay flat on his back, looking up at a gray, metal ceiling. Dimmed artificial light cast over him. The presence was still there, still strong and gentle, but probing more now.   
<Daemon?>   
He didn’t know where he knew the name from, but with the name memories came. The breakdown, the healing tank, sleep..... And now he was awake again.   
<I am here> Daemon’s deep voice sounded in his head.   
Rhyan turned sleepily, almost lazily, toward his partner's presence and was surprised by the image he saw in his mind. It was as if Daemon was physically present. He couldn't really grasp the image, but it was there. Rhyan felt like in a virtual reality where his partner had taken shape, where the robot had shed its shell and turned into something more... more... warm, real, just there. He experimentally reached out and his virtual fingers encountered a substance. Soft.... flexible... and then gone.   
Someone talked to him, outside the link, and he tried to concentrate on the voice. He recognized Dr. Kyle Scott.   
"Dr. Masters? How do you feel?"   
"Okay," Rhyan said after a while. He actually felt pretty good. "How long was I under?"   
"Two weeks. We had to adjust a lot and you might feel a bit strange for a while whenever you and Daemon use the Interface link to communicate, but you’ll get used to it."   
Kyle began to examine him thoroughly. Rhyan simply lay back and let it happen. He felt a bit dreamy still, detached, and the feeling was only gradually getting better. Daemon was there, in his mind, closer than ever, and much calmer than he remembered him.   
<How are you?> he asked.   
<Okay> was the soft answer.   
Rhyan probed the presence next to him and was surprised to find Daemon almost totally at ease. <What happened?>   
<I talked with someone>   
<Who?>   
<Melissa. She helped>   
Rhyan sent a smile and felt Daemon’s embarrassment. <Where are you?>   
<Outside. You’ll be allowed to leave soon>   
<And you?>   
<I’m staying with you>   
"Okay, you are okay so far," Kyle interrupted his silent conversation. "You can go back to your quarters, but I’d like you to check in daily, or sooner if you experience problems."   
Rhyan nodded and sat up, feeling dizzy for a moment.   
"Take it easy," the medic advised with a smile. "And I mean both of you. Daemon is outside and Midnight got you both quarters, so you go there now, rest and do nothing but recover. Promise?"   
Rhyan smiled. "Promise."   
Kyle accompanied him to the waiting area and Rhyan felt Daemon's presence grow almost possessive the closer he came. But it was no longer painful. It was part of him and he enjoyed the painless closeness of his partner. Daemon turned as he entered and if he had had a visible mouth, he would have displayed a smile.   
<Welcome back> was sent through the link.   
"Okay, you two. Like I said: rest and recreation. Doctor's orders. Rhyan, I want to see you back here tomorrow." He raised an eyebrow.   
Rhyan nodded. "You will."

Kyle watched the two unlikely partners leave and then became aware of someone close to him. It was rather impossible not to notice a giant robot standing behind you, but Kyle was so much used to working with them, he could phase them out of his mind when he was immersed in a project.   
"How did it go?" Skywolf wanted to know.   
"Very well. Rhyan's cyber-net implants are stable, I replaced some and if they follow my advice, I predict no further complications. It was really time to exchange them. Another blow from the link and he would most likely have lost it completely. The whole system looked ready to break down."   
Skywolf nodded. "I'd like to take a look at this system, if you don't mind. And I want to see where he connected to Daemon."   
"You have scans of him?"   
"A few, yes." The Sentinel grinned.   
Kyle shrugged. "Okay, you go ahead. I can transfer the files to your terminal."   
"Thanks, Kyle."

* * *

A few weeks had passed and Rhyan had to confess he was slowly starting to relax, mostly because Daemon was no longer so tense and under pressure. His Sentinel partner had mostly accepted that there was no changing the fact that they were back among his own kind, on Cybertron, at least for now. He chose to be mostly to himself and he had taken to exploring his new old home. No one stopped him and Rhyan knew that though Daemon liked to disappear for days in a row, he was doing fine. He had even picked up on Daemon meeting some strange female, a Gatekeeper, who was apparently the guardian to a place called the Inner Maze. As long as Daemon didn't get into trouble, it was totally okay with Rhyan that he was off on his own.   
Their connection was still strong and ever-present, a constant link he rarely ever felt but which stabilized Daemon's mental condition. As Kyle had put it, it was unique. No Interface was as constant as theirs and no other partnership might be able to withstand what Rhyan had unconsciously been put through. His cybernetic implants buffered Daemon's demands and nothing leaked into the organic part. Several checks had been performed in those last weeks and Kyle was pleased with the development of the alterations. He had adjusted them now and then, but Rhyan didn't feel any different, except that the pressure in his head was gone and the burning had disappeared. It was a relief.   
The other Interfaces and humans working closely with the Sentinels and their partners had shown no prejudice when he had met them, accepting him as if he wasn't connected to a former Quintesson killer machine. Though he wasn't a great conversationalist, Rhyan had easily slipped into day-to-day chatting, answering curious questions about himself and his implants without problems. He didn't have problems with alien life forms either.   
Right now Rhyan sat in the kitchen. He was one of the first to be up and about this morning and he had managed to claim the Cybertronian Morning Post. A pot of coffee stood on the table and a mug in front of him. Jeff Winters was working on breakfast. Rhyan had been pleasantly surprised by one of Winters' lunch creations the first time he had ventured into this place where most of the Interfaces met from time to time and which seemed to be some kind of center point for the human population – which was few – of this part of West Central. Winters was one heck of a talented cook.   
Someone else entered the room and walked straight over to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug.   
"Yuch!"   
Rhyan peered over the newspaper and discovered Nicholas Cavanaugh.   
"Hey, Jeff! What did you put into this? Soap?!"   
Jeff looked up from whatever it was he was preparing in his pan. "Sure," he grinned. "Doesn't everybody?"   
Nick grimaced but sipped at the dark liquid again.   
"If you came out of your hole once in a while you might just be able to enjoy real coffee, not this chemical disaster you tech heads call coffee," Jeff teased.   
Nick snorted and sat down on a chair. "Got some leftover paper?" he asked.   
Rhyan nodded and handed him part of the paper he had already gone through. Somehow, he mused, living here on Cybertron, with the other Sentinels and their partners, was not so different than his life back at Project. He still had to get used to a lot of things, but it helped that the people around him were so open.   
A touch alerted him to Daemon's closer presence and he smiled as he felt his partner's curious probing. He wanted to know where Rhyan was.   
<Breakfast> he answered. <You?>   
Daemon sent him an impression of a city below the surface. It had the catching name 'Below'. IceAngel, the guardian of the Inner Maze, was with him and Rhyan understood that she was trying to help him get reacquainted with everything.   
<Be careful. You are making friends> he sent. Annoyance greeted him. Rhyan grinned. <Why did you call?>   
<Do you have any medical checks scheduled?>   
<No...> he answered slowly. <What's up?>   
<I.... I need to get out of here for a while. Just drive around. I don't want to do it alone>   
Rhyan nodded, smiling. <Meet you where?> he simply wanted to know   
<I'll pick you up>   
<Okay>   
Rhyan closed the newspaper – just in time to see a large plate of breakfast goodies on its way to him.   
"Uhm, Jeff, who's supposed to eat that?" he asked, stunned.   
Jeff grinned irrepressibly. "You."   
Rhyan groaned. Jeff kept teasing him about the fact that he had lost weight throughout the weeks before Daemon and he had decided to accept help, and this was one of Winters' ways to tell him to eat more. He had to confess he was hungry.   
"Good boy," Jeff lauded as Masters started eating.   
Rhyan only grimaced.

* * *

The Council meeting was in session, but not all Council members were present. Tornado was still on Mernan, caught up in paperwork and Firefall was missing without reason again. Their seconds had filled in, but since this was no session deciding important topics, they wouldn't have to check back with their leaders. Optimus was delivering a short report about Cybertron matters, leaving out the boring facts everyone could read in the report each member had been given. They had already cleared most of the topics and what he had to tell his fellow Council members were mainly small alterations. Then he nodded at Midnight to continue.   
The Sentinel leader seemed to inhale deeply. "I have only one topic and most of you have seen him already: Daemon. How he came to be back on Cybertron is in a memo I sent, but now we know he will stay for an indefinite time. He seems to be stable and controlled, just like his partner. I want each of you to know where he comes from and what could happen. He is dangerous, but he is also someone who has suffered by the hands of the Quintessons – and survived. I call it lucky that what survived was able to change and adapt, though his old personality, Synchrony, sometimes comes through. We are keeping an optic on him, but if you have any serious trouble, contact me. That's all I want to say concerning this subject. Treat him like you would treat one of your own, please."   
The others nodded in agreement and understanding.   
"That's all I wanted to handle today," Optimus continued. "The next meeting will be as scheduled. We'll discuss the bigger topics then. Dismissed."   
Everyone dispersed and Midnight found himself alone in the Council room – alone except for a brightly colored Autobot watching him.   
"How is everything?" Rodimus asked quietly.   
"I need a vacation," Midnight muttered.   
"Don't we all?"   
He smiled humorlessly. "I'd feel much better if I knew where to put Daemon. He is a time bomb of a different sort. There is no predictable time or even any time at all... we don't know if he blows one day or not. Synchrony is deep inside him and Rhyan is the catalyst, the control element."   
"So what do you want to do?" Rodimus asked quietly.   
"Nothing. Simply watch and be alert. Both behave normally. Rhyan has slipped into society with ease and IceAngel told me that though Daemon is emotionally cold and sometimes totally shielded, he is only projecting this image. She told me he sometimes slipped and what he showed was...." Midnight shrugged. "Angel described him as 'wounded' and 'torn'."   
Rodimus nodded. He understood in a way. "So you wouldn't see him as a real danger?"   
Midnight sighed, shrugging again. "I wish I knew what to make of him. Synchrony was a Sentinel who was turned against everything by the Quintessons, who was deprived of everything, who was cut down to a mere machine without conscience or independent thought. He was punished for being what they made him and the humans revived him. I'm not sure what exactly made him who we now know as 'Daemon'. Rhyan was a big part of that change and Daemon is still changing and growing. I want to give him a chance, but I won't simply trust him."   
"Wise decision. He is dangerous, but I wouldn't call him an enemy."   
"I never would."   
Rodimus smiled. "I know."   
They both left the conference room, Roddy intent on catching Shanygn at their meeting point on time. He had a promise to keep. Midnight muttered something about having to talk to Tornado and disappeared down the other way.   
[You somehow sound worried]   
Rodimus had to smile. [Don't I always?]   
Shanygn 'hmmmed'.   
[Comes with the job description and after such a long time of knowing me, you should have realized that by now]   
[Don't remind me of it! I think I found a gray hair this morning!]   
Rodimus laughed. As an Interface Shanygn had stopped aging and all the gray hair were just imagination. He sent her that.   
[With you as a partner, everyone would get gray hair!] she countered.   
[Hey, what did I do lately?]   
[Nothing, and that's suspicious! It's been too quiet for too long]   
[Why, thank you] he grumbled.   
Shanygn only grinned. [You know] she then started. [I got this idea.....]   
[Don't start!] he interrupted her immediately.   
[It's just an idea!] Shan protested.   
[That's what worries me!] Rodimus already saw himself window-shopping with his partner again – and there wasn't even a birthday or anniversary coming up!   
She only laughed and he shook his head. Rodimus simply transformed and drove on to their meeting point. For the rest of the days he had planned on nothing but relaxation and no work. It would be a nice change for a while.


End file.
